The Mortal Instruments: City of Forsaken Hearts
by Lady.Miraculous
Summary: Taking place two months after City of Fallen Angels - a new evil threat has destroyed Alicante, nephilim have gone missing only to show up as enemies, and the clave have disappeared, leaving a small group of shadowhunters in New York to solve this puzzle quickly, before it destroys everything they have ever loved and fought for. all canon pairings.
1. Chapter 1: Lost

**Title**: The Mortal Instruments: City of Forsaken Hearts

**Chapter 1: Lost**

**Authors Note**: Its been awhile since I've started a new story – but I absolutely cannot get The Mortal Instruments out of my head and since its going to be forever until Heavenly Fire, this is my interpretation of what happens after City of Lost Souls. Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoy and I hear from you!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of its characters. All respectful material belongs to Cassandra Clare – including the universe created for this story.

* * *

He just wasn't in the Christmas mood.

Alec stuffed his hands into the thick leather jacket, the cold nipped at his blistering cheeks while he moved gracefully away from the institution. Call him a scrouge, but he just couldn't handle hanging around all the love contained in that one room before. He had been doing pretty damn well too. He had been tolerating Clary and Jace or Isabella and Simon in small doses. He had stopped needing to leave the room, or feel that suffocating feeling when people really in love are intoxicating the atmosphere with their gooey feelings.

It wasn't like they were that bad. Well. Jace was always bad – but that was just Jace. Clary this. Clary that. Clary. Clary. _Clary. _He hadn't cared before, it wasn't like that anymore. His feelings towards Jace strictly came from being his parabatai. It was like all of this brightly shinning happiness radiating out of him.

And then there was Alec, trying to fool everyone that he wasn't one damn bit miserable about …him. He really preferred not to think of his name. It would make him start to think about maybe more of this was his fault than what he wanted to admit. He might start remembering nights in paris, long days in venice, getting tossed out of Egypt.

Nothing good came from walking down memory lane.

His breath came out in a sold crisp puff as he stuck his hands further into his pockets and stalked farther away from the institute. Christmas was for being merry, for being joyful around those you loved. He figured he was doing everyone a favor by turning his back from them and letting them have their boyant Christmas cheer without his gloom and doom attitude bringing it down. Isabella was bugging him about a Christmas list, and he didn't want to get into it right now. There was really only one Christmas present he wanted this year and it wasn't something you could wrap and place under the tree.

Well, you could but he doubted their mother would appreciate it. And he doubted his temperamental warlock would want to be wrapped up with a gigantic bow on his head. Alec wasn't completely unable to compromise though. If he couldn't have a warlock…maybe he'd just settle for a vampire.

Besides, best to forget that he didn't have a warlock anymore. It put a sour taste on his tongue to know that was his fault. _Magnus wasn't his anymore._

He shook his head. He didn't want to think about that - didn't want to think about him. Instead he turned his attentions towards something a little more...productive. Maureen had stolen Camille's life from him, and he was still pretty pissed about that. To make matters worse, she was a loose canon as he ever saw one. A thirteen year old vampire girl who had no fathomable clue the rules she was supposed to abide by. Not that he hadn't tried to warn her, but she had gotten pretty defensive, and things had gotten a bit…dicy. Truth be told he hadn't expected Mareen to be that big of a challenge. She was a thirteen year old newly turned vamp for Christsake. When he had lunged at her though…she had fought back with a vengeance. He wasn't about to forget just how close it came to her fangs grazing his neck.

Wouldn't that be ironic? He gets dumped by his immortal boyfriend for trying to turn him mortal so they can stay together and in the same night he winds up immortal. Fucking perfect.

He glanced up at the worn out, formidable building that was a lost remnant to the cathederal period. This particular hotel had been vacant for over a hundred years. It was a known, prime location for vamps. His fingers twisted against his stele as he walked boldly through the front set of doors, not remembering quite when he had become so reckless, so like…_Jace ._

* * *

"Nice. Its like a Charlie Brown Christmas Tree," Simon appreciated the bare branches at the top of the mammoth christmas tree they had brought into Luke's home. Clary had been trying to give it an artistic spin to make the top seem…less pitiful, but he didn't see anything working.

"Don't diss my tree," she frowned, standing up on the ladder as she tried to twist a few of the lower branches upward, as if that was going to make a difference.

"Maybe you could paint a new tree and pull it out with your powers," he suggested with a smirk.

Clary returned a companionable sneer from where she stood up on the ladder. Honestly she had been about to give up, but then Simon had to make the Charlie Brown comment and now there was no way in hell she was giving in until the top of the tree looked perfect and he admitted it, even if she had to shove his face into the finely placed branches.

She could hear her mother boiling the hot chocolate from the kitchen, Luke was rummaging through the fridge. It was hard to believe things could be quite so…normal. It felt normal at least, more normal than her life had been over six months ago. Simon grinned from below as he made a second hand comment on how the tree was now leaning too far to the left.

"Cram it Louis, or you can go find a new tree yourself," she suggested as she twisted her hands through her red hair, piling it up on top of her head and out of her face. It was a look she had seen her mother do time and time again when she started to get frustrated with a painting. It meant it was go time, time to bring her a-game to this pathetic topped chrismtas tree.

Simon flopped onto the couch and turned on the television set, flipping through the channels until she heard the familiar chatter of an anime they both watched.

She felt her phone give a familiar vibration into her pack pocket, and left it there as she continued to play with the bristles, her fingers full of sap so she couldn't exactly answer it right now. She had a creeping feeling in the back of her head she was late for training. Which meant boyfriend or not, Jace would work her twice as hard because she needed some sense of…what was the word?

Oh. Yeah. Dislipline.

Because she was about to take that seriously when it was coming from Jace.

Simon grumbled as he reached into his pocket and yanked out his phone, he flipped it open and answered with a heartless, lethatrgic expression. "Yeah? She's here. No it rang. Maybe she's ignoring you. I'm not giving her a message," he snorted loudly, "Well this annoying bloodsucker right now is the one your asking to do a favor for, so maybe you should try again with a pleas attached to the end."

Clary rolled her eyes, "Simon stop antagonizing Jace." She met his surprised look with a raise of her eyebrows. Yeah. Right. Like she didn't totally know who he was talking to on the other line.

Simon muttered a few comments under his breath about appreciation and true friendship before glancing up at her, "Your completely humbled and well grounded boyfriend is wondering what on earth could be more tantalizing than talking to him."

She nearly rolled her eyes again, but stopped herself – mostly because he was slightly right. There were rarely things more interesting than talking to Jace, but she was trying that whole 'not increasing his ego to the point where he can't fit through a door' deal. "Tell him I'll call him back when my fingers aren't full of sap."

"She says your not that fascinating, and she'll call you back when she has nothing better to do."

"_SIMON!"_

"Fine. She's busy with the tree," he shook his head and at the dead tone ringing through in his ear, figured Jace was done with him. "You can't let me have a bit of fun?" he whinned.

"You could help with that superstrength of yours, you know," she retorted, trying to bend a rather large branch up. She stumbled back on the ladder and nearly kept her balance as it shook. A few months back she would have been flat on her ass, rushed to the hospital with some broken ankle. The balance rune gleamed brightly against her knuckles as she got her footing back.

She muttered an illegible curse as the door swung open, nearly shaking off the frame. She really expected Jace. Probably to taunt Simon into taking their disagreement outside – in which she'd go and tug them both by their ears, get them all full of sap and they could just sit down and talk about appropriate ways to express their feelings.

Instead it was Izzy. She didn't look pleased, though she did look radiantly beautiful as always.

"Alec's gone," her skin was pale and her eyes were deep. It had been a long time since Clary had seen that look in her eyes, not for a full two months when Jace had first gone missing.

"Isabella, I'm sure he's fine," Simon grunted as she came to stand in front of him and the television set, hands set high on her hips.

Clary leaned down from the tree, "How long has he been gone?" she questioned out of concern for Simon's bodily harm if someone didn't give Isabella the response she was looking for. She snapped her attention back to Clary and seemed grateful for the question.

"A few hours ago. I was an idiot, and bugging him about what he wanted for Christmas. He got this look in his eyes and stalked off. Now he won't answer his phone and…" she paused, her breath frigid on her tongue, "I'm just worried okay? Stop playing with that dead tree and lets go find him."

Clary's face fell a bit, "Itsnotdead," she retorted in an incoherent mutter as she climbed down the ladder.

"Alright, we'll find him," Simon jumped up, his cobalt t-shirt with dark black letting GAMERS DO IT BETTER a stark contrast against his pale skin. His hand slid easily through hers as she tugged him out the front door. Clary barely had time to shout to her mom and Luke before she disappeared out the door behind them, grabbing Jace's jacket as an afterthought.

"Does Jace know?" she caught up to them quickly, shrugging her arms through the jacket Jace had neglected to take home with him, which meant she was borrowing it for the meanwhile and _hopefully _not going to end up in a situation where she got blood on it.

Seriously. It had happened once. He loved her, but she had been terrified of admitting she had a huge demon rip through the sleeve and blood splattered on the inside. He might not love her quite that much.

"Yeah, he said leave him be," Isabella's eyes glinted hard as diamonds as she battered the brittle cold winds of winter, "but he's my brother, I can't do that!" she snarled and nobody dared to argue with her. What was the point? This was Isabella Lightwood after all. If she set her mind on something, she damn well was going to see it through.


	2. Chapter 2: Missing

**Title**: The Mortal Instruments: City of Forsaken Hearts

**Chapter 2: Missing**

**Authors Note**: Here is the second update of City of Forsaken Hearts – not too much to say, seeing as my last chapter was yesterday. Anyways. Thanks goes out to those of you who review or followed the story. I promise to update pretty regularly.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of its characters. All respectful material belongs to Cassandra Clare – including the universe created for this story.

* * *

Isabella moved without noise, her dark straight swinging from shoulder to shoulder as she repressed the desire to shudder. The stiff, coldness of the winter had left the air crisp and clean with each inhalation and exhalation. It was her favorite sort of weather. Summer was a hassle to dress cool and still wear glamors everywhere because of the runes and scars left on her skin for the mundies to see. She rather enjoyed being able to walk through public and draw stares with her arms and legs covered. At the moment though, she took no joy in the weather, or feeling Simon's lifeless body moving swiftly next to her.

All she could think about was Alec.

God she had been an idiot. Who asked someone what they wanted for Christmas after a break-up? He had been acting so…like him she just hadn't thought. It wasn't like he stayed up in his room, refused to be around company. He looked at you when you asked him a question. He laughed, when others were laughing. She had never realized how absent he had really been. Like when he looked at you, he looked through you. And he never laughed by himself or initated the laughter. He had been fooling them all with such ease. It stung to know she had let him down. She should have known. Out of everyone, she should have been the one to realize he wasn't over Magnus.

She was going to shove her six inch heel up the warlock's ass the next time she saw him, she didn't care who's fault it was. She didn't care if Alec had tried to suffocate his cat during the night or had done some unspeakable thing. Nobody tossed her brother away like that. Nobody broke a Lightwood's heart and lived to tell the tale. She grumbled under her breath, squeezing her fingers tight, nails biting into her left palm.

"Uhm. Izzy…you know that would hurt if I was human," it kind of did hurt as it was, but Simon wasn't about to admit that. He kept his fingers laced through hers, despite her attempt to slash through his skin with her perfectly manicured nails.

Isabella released the tension in her fingers as she realized how tightly she had been sinking her nails into Simon's flesh, "Sorry," the word didn't quite feel right on her tongue – she rarely apologized.

In fact, Simon starred at her with a slightly shocked expression. It was a little offensive. "Cut it out," she glared, slapping him on the shoulder.

"Where are we going?" Clary cut in before Isabelle and Simon really got into it. Her teeth chattered despite the warmth of Jace's coat. When she turned her head, just a bit she could inhale the scent of his laundry detergent and that…pure Jace smell that couldn't be replicated.

"I thought maybe we could ask Rafael…" Isabelle trailed off, starring forward and not meeting either of their eyes.

"Rafael?" Simon interrupted, voice masked as perfectly tranquile, "Would you be referring to Rafael the vampire who can't wait to murder me now that the mark is gone? The Rafael who has asked me for favors numerous times that I've turned down and now has a price on my head? The Rafael that-,"

"YES SIMON. THAT RAFAEL." Isabelle huffed, drawing her hand out of his. "He's my brother, what am I supposed to do?!" she demanded hotly, her eyes remained clear. She wasn't going to cry. No matter what happened she was _not _going to cry.

"Okay, Simon will wait outside, and we'll talk to Rafael," Clary reassured her, lightly touching her shoulder, "You know Alec is going to be fine Isabelle. He's a shadowhunter, not much can hurt him."

She thought they would be words of reassurance. Isabelle only looked more miserable by the mentioning of it though as she stalked forward. Clary picked up her pace to keep her shorter stride in length with her long, graceful one.

* * *

"I'm running out of patience with you Maureen," he tisked as he felt his hand draw on his stele. His eyes glowered in the darkness and he felt…at peace for a moment. His mind was focused on a task. With his life dangling in the balance of a fight there was no room to think of the past two months. It was only him and a hungry, teenage angst vampire. Just how he liked it.

She giggled, her vibrant eyes glittered as she remained gracefully standing in the middle of the doorway. Her clothes were torn and bloodied, pale against her white skin. The red stood out in a morbid stain against the soft childish silks her mother had bought her as a shirt six months ago.

He watched her with hesitant eyes – last time he had let down his guard. He had called her Simon's Maureen – and she had liked that. She had giggled and inspected her fingernails before flying towards him. Her little scrawny arms had knocked him off kilter, and he had felt her teeth try to snap at his flesh just before he flung her off him. She had managed to break three ribs – something he wasn't about to forget.

"Your cuter than Simon," she giggled again, "And he doesn't visit me like you do."

He could practically hear Jace next to him. _A Forsaken is cuter than Simon. _But Jace wasn't here. Isabella wasn't here. _Magnus wasn't here. _Alec gritted his teeth. It was just him, which was fine. He could stand on his own two feet, he could handle one pathetic vampire.

"Remember what I said last time Maureen?" his fingers rested against the stele, he could feel it burning brightly in his palm, it thrummed with power. "You can't drain people for blood, we don't allow that."

She giggled again, rolling her perfect little doll eyes at him, "Oh Alec. Your so boring," she flashed her white fangs, and he tensed as she took a normal step forward. Her giggle echoed and bounded across the dimly lit cement room at his quick flinch backwards. "I didn't kill all those humans," she pouted strongly, "But I don't see why if someone else does I don't get to."

He didn't lower his weapon as he hesitantly continued to watch her. "Fifteen people went missing in the last week. Its just me and you Maureen. No reason to lie," he gritted his teeth as she inspected some dirt under her fingernail. Her childish eyes buoyantly lifted up to glare at him.

"I didn't lie, it wasn't me," she snarled the words, a child used to not being believed by adults. Her temper flickered, it was so unstable as a vampire. She had to wrestle to control it, like Camille warned her…before she killed her that is. "I found a wolf outside of the city. Don't tell me I'm not allowed to drink _them." _She frowned as she glanced down at the ruined silks.

"Okay. Then who took all those people?" he felt his back edge as she took a step forward again. Her eyes glinted.

"It's a secret," she tittered in a fluttering, soprano voice, "I can't tell," and then she lunged for his throat.

He saw it coming, and avoided her with a quick step to his side. She slammed against the cement, and pushed against the ground to fling herself at him again. This time he was prepared. He slashed the stele out, cut her across the stomach where she screeched like a child and flung herself back. Her lips pouted as she cradled her arm against the wound and huddled against the cement.

"I don't like you anymore," she decided, flicking a tear from her cheek as she pushed her back up against the wall, "I think I _will _give you to them to play with after all."

"W-What?" Alec frowned, confused by her sudden stalk out of the room. He kept his stele raised, the only light in the room as eight Forsaken swarmed through the doors. Sweat dripped down his back as he clutched his hand around his stele – and fought for his life.

* * *

"Rafael's not here," she jumped the small four feet from the edge of the stairs to the ground. The hotel was desolate, all that lingered where shadows and ghosts – lost remnants of what this hotel used to be in its glory days. She could only find the subtle hint that something – or rather someone – had used to inhabit this daunting hotel. Empty blood bottles from the dinner down the street. A few beds with imprints still there. An unfinished game of chess. Who knew vampires played chess.

Simon didn't seem quite as disappointed as Izzy, he squared his arms across his chest and glanced around, expecting Rafael to come creeping out of the shadows any moment. He knew what he would say – _Bet you wish you had that mark now daylighter. _ It caused him to shiver, although the drastic change in temperature didn't affect him. In fact he watched as Isabelle and Clary bundled up in their coats, shivering from the shift of a cold draft in the building while he remained in his t-shirt and light jacket.

Clary's phone gave a vibration that drew both their eyes.

"You better answer it," Isabelle muttered while she stalked away.

Clary's lips chattered as she numbly tore her fingers out of Jace's pocket where she had stored her phone. She flicked it open and held it up to her ear, "I know. I know. I'm late. "she mumbled, puffs of cold air forming from her frozen breath.

"Late would be an improvement," Jace pointed out, trying to sound cross. He didn't succeed.

She rolled her eyes as she stomped her feet to keep them from going numb, "Isabelle needed my help. I'll be on time tomorrow. Shadow hunter's honor," she swore and was relieved by the sound of his laugh.

"What honor?" he retorted sarcastically.

She was about to answer back with some witty remark when Isabelle shouted. Clary nearly dropped the phone. She could hear Jace shouting through it as Isabelle came tearing back from the dark corner of the room. "Jace, I gotta go…" she winced, hearing him yell at her not to hang up as she slid the phone shut.

The omni demon wasn't particularly smart, or handsome to look at. In fact it slugged out like a fat, wobbling worm that was the size of one of smaller city buses. It left a greasy red slime behind it as it opened it's gigantic mouth, razor sharp teeth outlined in a hazardous circle. Its skin was dark grey and leathery with the poisonous slime coated, and it moved faster than anything that fat and ugly had a right to.

Simon slipped in the poisonos substance, his face twisting in disgust at the smell as Isabella grabbed his hand and yanked him to his feet.

Clary patted her hands against the side of her pants, frantically looking for something to use to puncture it. She grimaced as she looked to Isabelle and raised her hands up in defense, "I left my stele at home."

"Good place for it," Isabelle snorted, she grabbed a knife and tossed it – similar to the way she would have tossed a knife to Jace or Alec.

Clary paled and dodged it, where the knife slammed into the side of a wooden beam and vibrated there. She didn't take time to look at Isabelle's face – she didn't want to see the expression as she turned around hastily and gripped the knife. She gave a yank and it stayed stuck. "You gotta be kidding me," she swore and tugged again.

"CLARY MOVE DAMN IT!" Isabelle shouted from behind her, and Clary turned just in time to see the creature's shadow falling across her pale face.

Her hands slipped against the hilt of the knife, the poisonous slime drooled onto Jace's jacket as she gave a hard yank and pulled the knife from the wood. Her fingers grasped the silver handle tightly, she looked for that familiar adrenaline to hit her during a fight….damn her if she was going down without at least getting in one hit. She was a shadow hunter now.

She slammed the knife straight into the demon's neck. It gurgled and blood boiled over her hand and onto Jace's sleeve. She shrieked at the pain as the creature's slammed its barbarous teeth at her. She felt its cold burning breath against her cheek when Isabelle's gold curving whip wrapped around its ugly throat and she yanked hard.

The whip sheathed the folds of skin, tugging the leather tight until it sliced right through the omni demon. The head toppled off, and the reaking smell had them all clapping a hand over their noses as they moved swiftly back. And like any dead demon, it seemed to sink into the floor and vanish.

"That's disgusting," Simon's face would have yellowed if he was human.

"Whats disgusting is what it did to my jacket," Jace's voice tore through the room, taking presence as he stalked in. His eyes glittered on the back of his extremely destroyed black jacket. In his eyes was far more concern for Clary than anything else.

Clary winced as she glanced at the ripped shoulder, the places where the poison had boiled through the tough, black leather and destroyed it. "…I'm sure you can get a new one. We saw one the other day, right Simon? Banana Republic?" she looked eagerly at Simon to agree with her. He was too busy starring down at the slime covered in his jacket from where he had slipped and trying to slide it off his arms without touching the acidic goo.

"Banana Republic?" his eyes feigned interest as he walked up to them, "Having any luck doing exactly what I told you not to do Izzy?"

Izzy scoffed, "It could have helped."

"Just say I'm right and get it over with," he smiled, that purely angelic smile Jace had while waiting for his ego to be stroked.

Clary snorted. "Actually, I think coming here was very beneficial," her eyes met Isabelle's, and for a second she saw some gratefulness there. Girls had to stick together…and all that. She supposed.

Jace smirked, and crossed his arms across his chest with a clearly entertained expression of 'this should be good'.

"Well…" Clary started, fumbling for words, "All the vampire's are gone and an Omni vampire was here…and…that's clearly something wrong. It sounds like shadow hunter business to me. you should really know what happened to the biggest clan of vampire's in Brooklyn. They could be causing havoc somewhere," she smiled cheekily then. See, it was a good reason.

"Not quite all the vampire's" Simon muttered as he dropped the jacket to the ground and stepped away from it, his pale skin flashing as he stood huddled in their little circle.

Jace ignored him, "Fine. but that's not what Isabelle wanted to find here, is it?" he challenged.

Isabelle's expression blazed heat as she snarled at him, "You should be more worried about Alec. He was when it was you out there missing!"

He slightly flinched at that, and felt Clary's fingers slipping into his hand as a warm comfort. Jace jerked his chin up and gave a shrug, "That was different. This is Alec just getting some fresh air. He'll be back when he wants to be back. I'd know if he was in trouble."

"Fine. I don't need your help. You'll only slow me down anyways," she stalked off, Simon carelessly tripping over his feet as he tried to catch up to her.

"You could be more supportive," Clary pointed out as she walked against Jace's side. His hand felt warm in hers as they headed out the doors of the vampire hotel.

He shrugged, his gold eyes carelessly scanning the horizon before he flickered his glance back towards her. His gut rolled to see the boiled marks on the leather jacket. If she hadn't been wearing that jacket…"You should get a healing rune," he interrupted, changing the conversation as he took out his stele.

"Jace, I'm fine," she pointed out, just a few marks on her wrists – no big deal. Her shoulder slightly ached, other demon hunters survived more. She wanted to be strong like them – like Jace.

He just ignored her response and drew out his stele, drawing the healing rune carefully on her hand before he slid it back and took her hand in his again while they walked. "Just thought you'd want to be healed before we start training," he turned and smirked, "And since you are so late. We're going to work on flips today."

Clary groaned and repressed the thoughts of her falling like a sack of potatoes while they turned and headed back towards the institute.


	3. Chapter 3: Sight

**Title**: The Mortal Instruments: City of Forsaken Hearts

**Chapter 3: Sight**

**Authors Note**: Hey everyone, so I am so excited about the progress of this story that I actually am already typing up the third chapter! This probably isn't typical but I do update pretty regularly when I start a story so you can look forward to that. Thanks for all of you reading and I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of its characters. All respectful material belongs to Cassandra Clare – including the universe created for this story.

* * *

Dyana Cole shoved a hand through her thick mocha curls and stepped out of the police car outside of the crumbling old hotel. It was a bad neighborhood, she had been called on enough investigations down here that she practically had committed all the streets down to mesmorization. She knew there were kids out there freezing somewhere, bad luck born from a shit situation, crack mama's and nowhere to turn. Enough of them would die, frozen out in the cold by the end of the season. No matter how many deceased she came across with blue tinted lips, eyes nearly peaceful in the moment of death where it must have warmed them, she never adjusted to it. She never stopped feeling for the damned of downtown Brooklyn.

The front door of the old Baxter Building Hotel was slightly caved in, yellow tape crossed over the slanted, narrow entrance that had police writing screaming in bold neon. It wouldn't keep any of the curious teenagers out later tonight. She shoved her hands into her pockets, hating the freaking cold as it slammed against her cheeks. One day she was going to move to Florida. Nice. Sunny. Warm. Florida.

"Detective Cole, body was found right around here," one of the stationary patrol members led her around the back of the building. She admired the high growling gargoyals up above, legendary stone creatures that once protected the inhabitants of these buildings. It was too bad, they hadn't done shit to protect this kid. She walked under the yellow taping and glanced around the corner where the garbage can had been splattered with a sticky dark crimson residue. Blood. It didn't twist her stomach the way it used to.

She wasn't a rookie anymore. She had gumption. She had a steel stomach lining.

Dyana walked over to inspect the body, and at the first glimpse she forgot all about gumption and stomach lining. She nearly threw up all over the body and evidence right there. Her gut wretched, and she thanked every god in the sky that she had skipped breakfast that morning. All that came out was a loud hack, tears stung at her eyes before she got herself under control. The corpse looked ages old. Its skin had been wrinkled to bone. Teeth gleamed so sharp, cutting into its bottom lip. Maggots slid across his open intestines, he was ripped from head to toe with sharp claw marks. Something had gnawed on half of his body. Black flies buzzed around the empty sockets of his face.

She spun against the patrol police with a snarl fixed on her lips, "What the hell you couldn't warn me?!" she snapped.

"What? Warn you on what?" He jumped a bit, as he starred at her.

"About the body, you asshole," she snapped, running a hand through her sweaty locks. The chill had left her body –for now.

He starred at her with a concerned expression, "Ah…okay….there's a body…behind the garbage can on this…homicide call that we…called you on." So this was the detective without her cup of coffee. He watched her with an apprehensive eye.

"Shut up smartass," she snapped, "Go get the evidence kit." She turned around to stare at the body. Thank god she had sent the patrol guy away, she wouldn't have been able to explain how her skin went white, and her jaw literally dropped at the very average, very _normal _body that was now threwn across the floor. A young girl, blue lips cold and frosted, a victim of the cold like all the rest.

But there had been….claw marks…and entrails sticking out and the maggots and flies….

She had blinked and it was gone. What the hell.

"I'm checking the hotel," she called out as she walked stiffly away from the body. God, maybe she really was losing it. They said too much coffee could cause your brain to become overly stimulized. Maybe she should cut back on the cup of joe. _I'd rather sever off my right arm…. _

Alright. She so she wasn't giving up coffee anytime soon.

Dyana slid under the yellow tape, and slid her flashlight on. The bright beam glowed against the dusty floor. She walked lightly, noticing the foot prints of another that had led a trail here. It didn't surprise her, kids were always trying to break in these old, dangerous buildings with the rafters falling down and the foundation crumbling away.

"Anyone here? You might as well come out now. C'mon, nothings going to happen," she rolled her eyes as she flashed the light around, moving away from where an old desk indicated it was the lobby. She stepped into what she guessed must have been the old ballroom. The pillars were still eloquent, despite dust and cobwebs sticking to the dark marble. She whistled, the noise bouncing across the room while she walked across the dusty floor. Her light flickered from side to side of the grand room.

Something moaned in a collapsed hump from the opposite end of the room. She rested her light on its huddled form and rushed over quickly. His black clothes were stained with blood, there was an open large gash on his forehead and his fingers grasped and stretched out, covered in the sticky blood she assumed must have been his. She leaned down, noticing he was trying to say something.

"M…" he mumbled, his dark hair falling into his eyes as his entire body convulsed.

"HEY GET ME MEDICAL IN HERE NOW," Dyana hollered into her radio as she leaned in, laid a hand on the boys shoulder, "Its going to be okay, just try to breath. Stay conscious, tell me your name…can you do that?" She looked doubtful at him.

"Mag…nus," he managed, coughing spits of blood before his vision slammed into darkness.

* * *

Everything was dark and tranquile, like slipping under a violent sea and finding the world calm and peaceful behind the torrent and dangerous waves. He should have felt cold, instead something warm seemed to keep his body at a tosty climate, and his eyes remained shut and ignorant to the world around him.

He saw everything Magnus. Here it didn't hurt. Here he didn't think about how royally badly he fucked it up by concerning himself with his boyfriend's immortality. He saw him standing in his kitchen, that half-sleeping expression in his thoughtful cat-like eyes while flipping through pages of some ancient crusted book. He saw him yanking his shirt off, some extremely colorful shinny material Alec wouldn't have been caught dead in. And then he was suddenly right back there – the moment it had all started.

"_Damned if I die before I do this," he grunted to give himself some sort of courage as he walked away from Jace and Isabella. His eyes glinted hard as diamonds as Magnus stood in the very center of the room. He was consciously aware of his parents not so far off. He knew this would possibly change everything that they saw their little boy as. But he was done worrying about other people's expectations and what they wanted him to be. He was done concerning himself over disappointing anyone but himself. _

_It was courage, a different kind of bravery he had never experienced before in battle, that gave him the strength to walk across the field of downworlders and shadow hunters preparing for the mortal battle. There was only one person he wanted that union symbol etched into his skin. And it was Magnus. It had always been Magnus. _

_From the first time he had made his skin jump with electric, that intoxicating voice of his breaking into his dreams. For the first time he had paced and paused and slammed his fist on the door, waiting for him to return his call and frustrating him beyond measures. _

_It was always Magnus. _

_The Warlock sensed him coming, but he didn't pay Alec any attention. He wouldn't, the shadowhunter had expected that. His constant keeping one arm up had finally frustrated and annoyed him. Alec didn't blame him, he wasn't asking his Warlock to be patient any longer. _

"_Magnus," he snapped his name, his shoulders square as if ready to prepare for battle. He didn't even turn to look at him, his fingers sparkling with some blue magic substance. "Look at me," he snapped, his dark eyes falling across the warlock. A downworlder and a shadowhunter – who would have thought. If he was going to die tonight, and the possibility was very real considering the war coming….he didn't want to die without doing this first. _

_When Magnus didn't turn to stare at him, he grasped the warlock by the shoulder and spun him around. His eyes were alight with fire and war that battled every concern, every insecurity he had felt with what set him apart from his parents expectations. When he looked at Magnus it all just…shattered. The war was already over when he yanked the aged warlock against him and crashed his lips against his. He tasted sweet and forbidden – how he always knew Magnus would. _

"_Magnus, I'm so sorr-" _

Magnus's face slipped away, blurring into the background with other downworlders and shadowhunters having the binding rune etched onto their skin. The last he saw was of those winking cat eyes before all the color blurred and washed away. His dark eyes blinked open to stare at the white steril room. His leg was in a cast, white bandaging had been stripped around his waist. When he tried to move he found himself immobilized by mundane medication.

Just fucking perfect.

He starred up into the clear blue eyes of a complete stranger. She had on a dark leather jacket, and wore some vibrant red top that was causing his mind to flex back to all the blood slick against his hands. How many forsaken had come through? Ten…Eleven? He had lost count. After awhile everything had blurred had been moving through the motions, pushing to survive. He remembered slamming his stele into the last bastard, and then sliding to the ground – exhausted.

What Alec didn't remember, was this woman who starred at him with conflicting, quiet blue eyes the color of the sky before a storm.

"Uhm…Magnus?"

He nearly jumped as she said that name. It caused a small ache to spread in his chest as he starred back, face drained of color – as if he'd witnessed a ghost come back from the grave.

Dyana paused and watched him with nervous eyes. He didn't seem the most stable, to be honest. "Your name…when I asked it you said Magnus."

Oh. He took a steadier breath. God. He had been asking for Magnus. He felt color bloom to his cheeks, a warm fleeting sensation, "Alec. Its Alec," he muttered, starring at the bed, his hands tightened into fists.

Dyana blew out the contained air in her lungs, "Okay. Well. Alec. I'll let you get some rest," she walked around his bed and paused at the door, starring at him. She frowned as he turned, something silver gleamed against his skin – multiple scars that she couldn't quite drag her attention from.

And then she blinked and they were gone. _What the hell is wrong with you Cole. Get it together. _She scowled as she left the room, slamming the door with particular force behind her.

* * *

Ouch.

She thought doing flips with the rope was bad, it turned out there was a greater evil in the world. It was called practicing flips _without _the safety rope tied around her waist. She glanced dazzed up to the ceiling, her head felt thick, thoughts swimming as Jace walked over to reach down and grab her hand. He tried to help her up but her knees buckled under her and she decided to stay right where she was.

Really. It was safer.

He smirked down at her, "I'll come down and get you," he warned in a challenge.

Clary grinned back, "I was hoping you'd say that," she retorted, and opened her arms for where he slid down, careful to keep his weight under him with his arms so he didn't potentially hurt her with the fire that seemed to radiate under his skin. She pushed a hand around his neck, her fingers tugging against his soft gold curls as she brought her lips up to meet his. This was her favorite kind of practice.

He wrestled an arm under her neck and suddenly flipped her over. She landed ontop of his chest with a soft oof, her fingers pressed into his shoulders as she leaned down and nipped her teeth against his bottom lip. Jace smirked, "I always knew my girl would have a bite to her," he teased softly as she shut him up with another kiss. His fingers dipped into her mane of wild red curls, twisting his fingers around her soft tresses.

The heat intensified, and Clary regretfully pulled back when it suddenly felt as if his skin was literally on fire. As she knelt there, her legs straddling him against his hips, he seemed completely relaxed and fine – better than he had been in a long time in fact. His arms rested against his side, his hands pressed against her knees as he watched her with quiet, thoughtful eyes.

"I don't suppose anyone's any closer to figuring out…" she let her voice drift off…mostly because she didn't want to bring up stabbing himself with a sword. A sword that was on fire.

He quirked an eyebrow at her, "I think it kind of suits me. Now I really am so hot I'm on fire."

"Ha. Ha. Funny." She rolled her eyes, leaning down to press her lips softly against his once more before she pushed against his shoulders to stand up. She could hear the sound of the institute doors opening wide, and she quickly checked her watch. It wasn't even close to ten, so at least she knew it wasn't her mother coming to check up on her.

Jace leaped up, in a much more graceful manner than Clary had. He offered his hand out for her to take as they quietly followed through the large open training doors to go investigate.

* * *

"You had your chance to get it under control. Now we're here to do damage control," he flicked an invisible amount of dust off his arm, cloaked in all black. His lips were in a controllable sneer, and there was something arrogant and proud in the way he carried his aristocratically sharp chin.

He almost looked like an older Jace to Clary, her fingers itched to grab her pencils and begin to stencil an outline of those firm beryl eyes that practically glittered with arrogance. She wanted to capture how that dark raven hair fell around his neck, and the way his slashing cheek bones formed into all angles when he frowned.

"Caleb Whiteguard, I see you are every bit the image of your father," it wasn't exactly a compliement the way Maryse stated it, her eyes blazing. "And I see we have the privledge of Cyrena Nightshade and Taran Hightower. Aren't we the privledged ones."

Caleb's jaded eyes took on a sharp edge, "Lets not forget my father was one of the few to ever see Valentine for what he was," he warned, jerking his shoulder forward. He caught the movement like a flicker out of his eye. "Your letting children do work the clave should be investigating," he accused, his voice dripping in disgust.

Jace shrugged out of Clary's grasp, strolling forward. "Sorry I don't remember seeing you anywhere when we were fighting off Valentine."

"You should teach your wards more respect, Maryse," he suggested, sounding like an aged man despite being in his early twenties. His eyes hardened as he starred at Jace and Clary who walked out boldy from behind them. He turned his attention away, "We'll be needing board here while we investigate."

Maryse seemed to swolllow something sour as she replied, "Of course."

He turned his back and walked out, flanked on his side the airy female, her silver hair falling around her shoulders and cut straight just below her waist. Taran grinned once, rolling his eyes behind Caleb's back as he winked at Maryse before following him out. He had curly golden hair with a soft reddish tint to it, and his freckles had made his face seem kinder than the hard edge of Caleb Whiteguard.

"Who the hell do they think they are?" Jace demanded hotly as he starred at Maryse. She had collapsed into a chair, squeezing her eyes tight with her fingers pressed against her closed lids.

She grumbled, running her fingers through her straight black cilium, "Extreme believers of the Law and the Clave. Try not to get on their bad side, although Hightower's son doesn't seem so bad."

"They seem…ah…intense," Clary suggested, trying for the right word. It still didn't fit with their rigid demeanor that they carried themselves with. "What are they investigating?" the fact that she had to ask and not Jace meant he already knew, and was hiding it from her. Which she would get him back for later.

Maryse seemed wary as she starred at the two children. Except they weren't really children, no matter what the age of the Clave stated. They had done more than many matured, adult shadowhunters and although every maternal fiber told her to protect them…she found herself faultering. "We've had an overwhelming amount of Forsaken being created. And Shadowhunters have been missing, along with downworlders and an overwhelming case of humans. It has to be demon activity, we seem to be getting the worst hit right here. The clave believes the source could be somewhere here."

She fell quiet, her lips white as she glanced up. Isabella stalked in through the doors, slamming it soundly behind her. "Who's the extremely handsome jerk who just told me off for being too _vocal _in my own home?" she demanded with annoyance.

Maryse sighed, resting her hand against her forehead, "Did you find Alec?" she asked instead, worry coating her tone.

Isabelle's face fell as she shook her head, "No, I thought maybe we could ask….nevermind. it's a bad idea."

They all knew what she was going to suggest though, the one person who had been able to help them countless times before when it came to a missing person they were tryng to find. And while nobody spoke his name, it crossed all of their minds.

_Magnus. _


	4. Chapter 4: Tattoo

**Title**: The Mortal Instruments: City of Forsaken Hearts

**Chapter 4: Tattoo**

**Authors Note**: Nothing to really update – just thanks for those of you who have followed the story and added it to the watch list and for anyone who reviews. You guys are great and thanks for reading.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of its characters. All respectful material belongs to Cassandra Clare – including the universe created for this story.

* * *

"Alec will come back when he wants to come back. We don't need help from a warlock," Jace muttered, arms square across his chest as Isabelle shot him a reproached look. He grumbled under his breath, feeling Clary's elbow prick him in the ribs. He turned to give a glare that clearly said: _Who's side are you on, anyways?_

Under normal circumstances, Maryse wouldn't have been so worried about Alec. He was eighteen, the age of an adult shadow hunter and no longer needed to be parented constantly by his mother. She knew he could take care of himself out there under normal circumstances. Her consternation over his life was due to the very...unnatural circumstances that were occurring. She had done her very best to keep the conversations circulating only between herself and Joycelyn and Luke. There had been no reason to allow the children to know their current problems. They had done far too much already, and no doubt would eagerly race to arms to defend and protect. It was what they were raised for, and under different circumstances she would have stood back proudly.

This matter was too grave, and dangerous for children still in training. She didn't care how many demons Jace had slayed, or how prepared Isabelle was. By the angel, they were her children and she was going to protect them the best way she could. Which meant not instructing them on the disapperances occurring and the strange activity of the downworlders. Nobody knew what it meant, but she knew the Clave was holding their breath, praying it wasn't movement caused by Valentine's son.

If she ever got a chance to drive a knife into that boy's back…she'd take it, no hesitation after what he had done to her family.

"Mom?" Isabelle glared, her tone cutting through Maryse's thoughts. "Don't you agree? We should ask Magnus. He'll have to help, there's no way he can say no," not when it was about Alec. The dark liner around her lashes were smudged, but if Izzy had cried in the past twelve hours he was gone…she didn't show it.

Maryse walked over to the desk, she hastily pulled out a scroll and a pen to scribble a note to the Clave. She'd have to announce that their troop had arrived to investigate the disappearance act. Her fingers nearly shook as she pressed the pen against the parchment. Alec couldn't be one of the shadow hunters missing. He wouldn't…her face paled, "Maybe it couldn't hurt," she admitted.

Isabelle gleamed with a triumphant simper, "Good. Lets go." She sashayed past Jace and Clary, her dark hair falling straight as rain as she headed out the doors of the library.

"Isabelle. Wait." Jace grinded his teeth together as he stalked forward and away from Clary, quickening his pace to catch up with Isabelle as she dashed out the front door.

* * *

"We are not asking help from him," Jace shot, slamming his arm on the door that Isabelle was trying to open.

She swatted at his arm with a fixated look of sheer outrage. "By the angel Jace, what is wrong with you?" she asked hotly. This was Alec they were talking about. He wasn't answering her calls. He hadn't been spotted by anyone. Nobody knew where he was, if he was okay. Her teeth grinded together as she tried to yank the door open despite his heavy arm resting against it.

Clary stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed as she watched them with a cautious expression. It wasn't something she wanted to get into the middle of, to be honest. She picked her phone out of Jace's jacket's pocket and glanced at the smooth text Simon had sent her, concerned about Izzy.

"JACE I SWEAR I'M GOING TO BASH YOUR HEAD AGAINST THIS DOOR IF YOU DON'T LET ME THROUGH!"

The color faded out of Clary's cheeks as she typed back a single sentence response back to Simon. _She's working on her anger management skills – best not to bother her right now. _

"You can try," Jace suggested hotly, his arm placed heavily against the door as he refused to move.

Clary sighed. "Jace, let her go if she wants to bother Magnus," she shot the boy a scolded expression her mother had used on her in the past – a look that used to curdle her attempted bad behavior the moment their eyes met. Jace seemed to measure the look, testing it. She sharpened the glaze until his arm started to relax.

Isabelle took advantage of the moment. She jammed her elbow into his gut in a cheap shot, and as soon as he flinched she rammed her arm into the door and busted through without another word.

"Why do you girls always play dirty?" he grimaced as he smoothed a hand down his shirt and glanced back over his shoulder as Isabelle and her dark hair vanished in the misty swirls of the snowfall that had started to blanket the world.

"We like to win." Clary moved to his side, her fingers stretched out to take his hand. "If you want to look, we can go look," it seemed the best she could offer in the moment.

Jace shrugged. "Like I said, he'll come back when he wants to. I'm far more interested in our new guests this evening," his tawny eyes glinted as he glanced towards the second story where they had all shuffled off to for the evening to get ready. He grinned, turning towards Clary, "I'm going to follow them this evening, see what they are up to."

"Great. I'll just run out and get my jacket," and the weapons she had left at home. She should probably leave a note for her mom as well.

Jace frowned, he pulled his hand from her grip and settled both arms onto her shoulders. "No, It will be boring. And you'll slow me down. Go home." really what he thought it could be was _dangerous. _But if he told Clary that then she'd definitely just sneak out and come anyways.

As it was he really wasn't sure if she'd listen to him. She tended not to.

Clary scowled, "I will not," she defended herself, jutting out her chin as she swatted his hand off her shoulder. They both knew it was a valied point though. Jace could move like the wind. Clary moved as if she had an achor tied to her ankles and she was carring an extra fifty pounds that was dragging behind her compared to Jace.

"Fine," she amended, excepting his reason, "Do I at least get a kiss goodbye?"

"I'll do better," he grinned, his fingers traveling lightly from her shoulder down to her hands. He slid his fingers through hers and yanked her to his chest suddenly. Clary lost her breath as she felt the outline of his muscles through his shirt, line up perfectly against her body as he leaned down and captured her mouth hungrily in his. She let out a throaty moan as he deepened the kiss, her fingers itched to run up his arms, to fist his skirt into her balled up hands. He kept his grasp on them though and she fidgeted under his mouth with the desire to touch him. When he leaned back he had a dark look of desire in his eyes.

"Jace," she moaned, resting her head against his shoulder.

He chuckled, his arm coming around her shoulders and tightening his embrace on her for a moment. He pressed his face into her soft rolls of red hair and inhaled sharply at the sweet scent of her shampoo. "You asked for it," he reminded her, grinning.

She rolled her eyes, keeping her arms locked around his waist. Her breath came out in ragged gasps as her body trembled against the lazy line his finger drew, running up and down her spine. He was incredibly warm with the cold air blustering from the open doors, winter trying to slip its frosy breath around her.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he whispered fondly into her ear, and slid from her grasp. He turned and headed up the stairs, not looking back as she watched him until he vanished around the corner.

* * *

"Look kid, this doesn't have to be so difficult. Just tell me why you were in the hotel," Dyana leaned against the chair, arms crossed over her chest as she starred at the miracle on floor six. That's what they were calling him at least – nobody fucking healed this fast. The cast had already been removed, and he was sitting up in the bed with a wary expression in those deep midnight blue eyes of his.

Besides his name, she had gotten nothing out of the kid. He clammed up whenever she waltzed in to try and get a few answers. It wasn't like she actually thought he was responsible for the mutiliated, scarred body she had found outside of the hotel complex. He had been barely breathing when she had walked in that dark, damp room with the faces in stone leering down on her.

She sighed, checking her watch as she stood up. "Look. If your trying to string this out because you've got no place to go – don't worry about that. I'll make sure you find some place warm for Christmas." It seemed like a kind, decent enough offer. Instead of the gratitude she expected, he sent her a hostile, and arrogant expression.

The woman thought he was homeless? He snarled in her face ,tracing his eyes back on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest that was extremely unflattering in the hospitial gown. He could just imagine what Jace would have said, or Izzy, if they found out he was literally trapped here. He couldn't do shit until he found out where his stele and the rest of his weapons had gone. He hadn't been able to have a healing rune scribed on his body, and had painfully healed the mundane way – except slightly excellerated considering his heritage.

Dyana sighed. She rolled up to her feet and turned around, "Fine. Be stubborn."

He glanced up, the faded mark of a disfigured rune had been scribbled against her neck. It jerked his attention, he had never noticed it before when she had visited. It seemed close to one of their agility rune's, but the markings were slightly off…Clary might have known. "Where did you get that tattoo?" his voice sounded dry and patchy from lack of use.

Dyana's fingers instantly went to trace the mark on her neck. She glanced back at him with a confused expression. It wasn't exactly what she had expected him to ask. Then again, since when had this kid accomplished anything she expected? "My grandmother gave it to me when I turned thirteen," she grinned then, "My mom nearly had a stroke when she saw it." If she thought he would laugh, or mention what drove his mom crazy…she was wrong.

Alec simply shrugged and turned his attention back to the wall. As if white concrete was suddenly the most fascinating texture to study.

She rolled her eyes at the kid, picked up her coffee and decided to grab a refill before she tried to slam her head against a brick wall by questioning him all afternoon.

The halls were quiet as she walked out, the nurses seemed to have vanished from the floor, rushing off to an emergency on another level. She walked down the silent halls, her feet squeaked against the shinny, reflective floor as she turned the corner to the lobby. There had been a least six people here this morning, now the red and purple seats were vacant. The vending machines gleamed, all of the good selections already taken. She skipped past the vineager and salt chips or peppermint stick gum and went for the cheap coffee machine. The keys stuck together as she programmed it for a cup of black, steaming expresso. The liquid finally trickled out in a white Styrofoam cup.

She took a hearty drink, squeezing her eyes shut as it slurped down her throat like sludge. Vending machine coffee tasted like shit, but she had sadly grown accustomed to it from the police station. It did its job, jolting her awake as she took another sip and headed back to the room.

Dyana turned the silver lever of the door, frowned as it clicked against something and didn't move. "Alec?" she called his name as she pushed her shoulder against the door. Jesus, don't tell her the kid had shoved furniture up against the door to keep her out. Her interrogation wasn't that bad. "Alec come on," she grinded her teeth, shaking the door and brutalizing her shoulder against it.

The weak hospital lock broke and she rammed the door open, nearly breaking the wall when she slammed it open. Alec had scrambled off the bed, he had grabbed what looked to be like a fork off the stand and was poised to fight off…jesus what the hell was that?

It was ugly. That was what it was. His hair was black and oily, dangling in ringlets down his bloodied, scarred face. There were ugly burns and welts covering across his body in a strange, and alien pattern of a sign language she had never seen before. His eyes were black as coal, and when he grunted there were only a few sharp, grey jagged teeth in his mouth. His skin was ashen and sweaty with prickles of blood. She instinctively tore out her gun from the hip holster.

Three blasts echoed in the room as she planted a round into his chest. Her eyes narrowed as her finger squeezed against the trigger, and she put two more straight through the front of his forehead. The man…thing….rocked back on his heels and slumped to the ground. Her breath came sharp and uneasy as she trembled with the gun to place it back in the strap on her hip.

"Holy Shit! What was that?!" She exclaimed, shooting a panicked look to the kid. "A fork? Are you nuts? You were going to fight that….thing off with a fork?"

That was it. Alec's eyes went dark, storm clouds seemed to burst through as he picked himself up and flung the fork hard. It slammed its three prongs into the wall and wobbled there, but had struck true and hard. "I know more about it than you do, mundie," he snarled, "Where's my clothes? My weapons?"

Dyana sputtered. "What? What the hell is that? Whats a Mundie? Jesus did you get knocked on your head or something?" at least he was in the hospital already. They could treat a concussion ontop of everything else.

Alec glared. "No," he shrugged his shoulders then. If she wasn't going to give him what he needed he would just find it. She wouldn't be that hard to move out of his way.

He turned around, to find her gun raised steadily at his head. The color sucked out of his cheeks as he gapped at her. This was not his fucking day.

"Whats. A. Mundie." She grinded her teeth.

"Fine. _Fine. _Put the damn gun down, help me out here and I'll…educate you," he looked as if he had swallowed something sour with the offer. His eyes remained uneasy on her until she lowered her gun.

"Deal." She snapped the gun into the holster, and grabbed her jacket off the chair. "First things first. Lets get you out of here before another one comes."

He nodded, completely in agreement for once.


	5. Chapter 5: Alliances

**Title**: The Mortal Instruments: City of Forsaken Hearts

**Chapter 5: Alliances**

**Authors Note**: Thanks for the follows and reviews guys! I haven't mentioned this before but if you want to read more of a character or of a pairing, feel free to let me know. I can fit in some fluff stuff, or use their perspective for a part of a plot. I plan on having this fanfiction go kind of lengthy so I don't mind adding in extra sections if you want more Isabelle x Simon or Alec x Magnus or whatever really, even originals I introduce.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of its characters. All respectful material belongs to Cassandra Clare – including the universe created for this story.

* * *

Her hand was being guided with the angel blood pulsating through her, against the soft blank canvas as she made a strip of black ink across the center with her paint brush. There was an ache between her shoulder blades, and her arm felt heavy and tired as the rune was pressed into the soft canvas. Clary bit her bottom lip in deep concentration as her hand continued to be guided by some unknown power. She looped the ink up, and felt the power thrum through her fingertips. Was this the rune that could save them all? Could it destroy Sebastian? Her fingers flinched, she felt tension roll into her knuckles.

The paintbrush fell from her fingers. Ink splattered across the wooden floor, staining the polished oak. It stained onto her trembling fingers, left a large blotch permenantly inked onto the white canvas. Her heart ripped from her chest in fear, blood rushed to her eardrums and a cold shiver ran down her spine.

She didn't know what rune she had drawn with her hands – but there was something dark, something disturbing about its nature. She could feel its swift coldness, a malice in the black ink that dripped down the white paper. She rushed to smear her hand across the canvas and the rune sunk deeper into the white parchment, vanishing before her fingers could undo the mark.

That was when Clary knew she was dreaming.

In the moment she realized she was trapped in a dream, her conscious jerked her forward. Her eyes flung open. It was _freaking cold. _Clary reached for the soft comfort of her blanket, only to drag her fingers across the frozen dirt ground. She jolted up with a freezing blast of winter winds circling around her in a vicious taunt.

Her teeth chattered loudly as she rolled up onto her knees, tightening her arms around her freezing, trembling frame. The snow whipped around her, lashing out cruelly against her bare arms and calves. The grey shirt was no deterrent against the temperature winter subjected her to. Her purple sweats that stopped at her knees left her skin pale and vulnerable.

It was more than the cold though, it was being terrified out of her mind to wake up in the middle of some abandoned field. The grass was dead under her knees, clumps of dirt and snow scattered across the flat ground. The line of trees and the lake near Luke's house glistened with a sheen of cold ice. She glanced up, her eyes resting on the playful shadows of the tall oaks outlining the forest.

A shadow stood just on the edge of the trees. His hair fell into his face, and fear struck Clary. _Sebastian? _She sucked in some air to scream – really what else could she do besides protect herself if he attacked? Her fingers grasped for some dirt to toss into his eyes if he came closer. When she glanced back up he was gone. Paranoia sunk into her skin as she trembled up to a standing position. Her eyes shimmered with fear and distrust as she glanced around the edge of the forest.

Quickly, she turned her back and ran back to the house.

"Simon I'm freaking out" she pushed a hand through her soggy head, bundling her hair into a messy bun as she balanced the phone against her shoulder and her ear. She starred at the canvas in her room, a large hole ahd been ripped in the middle, and black ink was saturated aginst the edges.

Like dark blood.

* * *

"A lot of people sleep walk Clary, I'm sure its fine," his voice came in soothing and relaxing. It didn't work. She picked up the scattered pens and colored pencils as she tried to keep him talking to keep her mind distracted. Maybe she'd have time to see the band play tonight – rarely could she think over Eric screaming about his loins into the microphone.

She ripped the white canvas into tiny pieces and jammed them into her small trashbin. "Did Isabelle hear from Alec yet?" she changed the subject swiftly.

"No. She left pretty early this morning to ask Magnus to help her," his voice deepened with concern and Clary could suddenly hear him pace around in the living room he still shared with Jordon. Suddenly, she grinned.

"So…she and you are….ah…you know."

Simon cleared his throat on the end of the line, "No, I don't know Fray. I think you need to spell that one out for me."

"S. E. X." her cheeks were tintled red as she spelled out the three letters. She imagined if Simon was still alive she might have heard his heart jump. As it was he just coughed and managed to covertly hide the shock.

"Jesus Clary," he scowled.

She'd take that as an awkward, but firm yes. "Anyways," she switched subjects again – before he'd try to question her about Jace and how lacking that subject was in their life. It made things dicy when he could set her on fire at any moment. "Don't you think maybe…we should go with her? I think Alec would have come back by now if he could."

"Ah, I guess. She's probably still there."

"Great. I'll meet you down there," and that way maybe she could ask Magnus about the rune she drew in her dreams. If anyone would know what it meant, she knew Magnus would be it.

* * *

There were still packed boxes in her living room, the top ripped open where she had been over the past three months, slowly transitioning into her life in New York. There was a couch, and a television set. She had a tv tray set up that worked as a coffee table and the bare minimum necessities of a kitchen. She was still using plastic forks and spoons and washing them when she was done.

"Just move in?" Alec asked from behind her, pausing in the threshold of the door. He starred at the nearly empty room.

Dyana was fishing out two coffee cups as she glanced up at him to answer his question, "Not exactly, unpacking hasn't been a priority of mine." She hadn't expected to move quite drastically from Georgia all the way up to New York. She hadn't wanted to quit the job she had down at the local station there and become one of the many drone heads of the New York finest who never made a dent in the crime rate here. She hadn't wanted to deal with cold weather and living somewhere alone.

But that's what you did when your parents went missing.

Alec didn't say anything else. He walked in and closed the door behind him – confident he could handle a Mundie if she tried anything on him. "When do we get my things?" he demanded, his tone brash and rude. He was in a hurry – he hadn't thought to be gone for over two day but by now he figured people would be worrying. It would be easy to over power her, demand that she take him to his weapons and clothes and then he could return home.

Home. To where everyone was brimming with happiness. To Isabelle obnoxiously complaining about Simon and then suddenly venomously protecting him. To his mother looking at him with that paranoid expression – as if he was about to keel over from a broken heart. He thought he had been doing quite well, actually. It was a bit insulting how they all seemed to pale whenever a topic came up relevant to his current situation.

Maybe he was avoiding going back, avoiding those careful looks and the subtle stares as they waited for him to finally crack and admit that he was dying. He couldn't breath. He couldn't even _fucking think past his own idioticy. _

"So remember, you stay here. I'll get your things and then you tell me everything before I hand it over," she combed her honey brown curls into a pony tail as she grabbed a thicker jacket and her ID badge that they had to come back for. It unlocked doors, she had explained in a huff when he demanded to know why they had to stop here.

He nodded, walking over to lean against the wall and stare out the window. He continued to watch the small yellow cabs swing up and down the streets, only relaxing his shoulders when he heard the door slam shut and a key turn in the lock.

* * *

Caleb fixated his eyes in the small, humbling bed room. Every inch of his muscle ached as he slid onto the bed and collapsed his legs down onto the feathery mattress. He felt all the tension slowly leak out of the midnight patrol they had carried out. His eyes dropped shut, and he could feel his head going heavy, thoughts layered with an inch of fuzz as he caved into the sleep.

His eyes were just about shut when the door popped open. A snarl was already fixed on his lips as he turned his head and glared at Taran. "Get. Out." he shot hotly, crossing his arms against his chest as he slid his eyes back open.

"I told you not to bother him," a light, airy voice trinkled in musical laughter. Cyrene walked in, with her silvery hair falling over her shoulders and dangling around her trim waist. Her delicate fingers played with the frayed edge of her shirt that had been sliced by an unfortunate tangle with an unsuspecting werewolf.

Taran grinned, "You said he would be crabby. He's always crabby so I didn't see any difference."

Cyrena giggled, in the most obnixous shrill sound that Caleb considered bashing her face into the wall for a split second. He was crabby, but he usually wasn't _psychopathic-murder-your-friends-and-smear-their-blood-against-the-walls-crabby. _He was tired. That was it, just exhausted down to his aching bones.

"What one earth could you possibly need to talk to me about right now?" he lamented heavily that he asked the question. He should have flung his shoe at them and make his point clear.

Why did people just not understand when they weren't welcome?

Cyrena walked over to sit down on his bed. Taran strolled over and slumped into a chair.

Caleb did everything in his power to resist his murderous thoughts.

"While you were sulking in the shadows over not finding anything, I saw that girl that was here earlier. She was digging into the dirt and hardly wearing anything." Taran stretched his arms against the chair, "Do you think she has something to do whats going on? Might explain the weird marks."

"Why didn't you mention this before?" Caleb growned, slamming his palms into his eyelids to rub the heavy sleep-deprived cust away. He swore when he watched Taran give a nonchalant shrug out of the corner of his darkly disturbed cobalt eyes. This was why he preferred working alone. Despite the six months he had kept company with Taran and his cousin Cyrena he often wished for the solitude of working alone.

Taran had considered that, but she had run off so quickly. He hadn't wanted to chance Caleb stalking after her, possibly scaring someone they needed as an alley. Of course he wasn't going to tell Caleb that. "You were crabby," he pointed out.

"And?"

"And I don't like talking to you when your crabby."

Caleb's face twisted into disgust as Cyrena laughed and patted his shoulder. She beamed a wide smile down at him, flashing teeth that made him think of a predator.

"If she's involved, she's breaking the law. We'll let the clave deal with it," he starred back up at the ceiling, his words apathetic at the possible circumstances and fate of a young girl.

Taran's voice cut through, sympathy laced, "If she's involved…maybe it's against her will, or she doesn't understand the rules yet. She wasn't born a shadow hunter like us."

"The law is hard, but it is the law," his voice sounded robotic as he repeated the motto. These were words he had heard a thousand times growing up. He remembered the weight in his aunts eyes and the healthy respect he had for the clave and their laws.

Taran and Cyrena went quiet, and slowly the silverly lithe female picked herself up from the bed and squeezed his shoulder before turning towards the door. "Maybe we'll find something tomorrow," she suggested patiently, beckoning for Taran to join her as they left Caleb alone.

He waited for the door to slam shut before a sigh of relief shook his body. When he closed his eye though, it wasn't the same peace as before. It was being twelve and standing at the grave of his parents.

The law is hard, but it is the law – his aunt had whispered down in his ear before she placed a single white flower on the headstones.

* * *

Her fingers tightened on the box as the cab jerked and turned a sharp left, the sound of a horn blarred from the traffic jam they had barely escaped. Her cab driver screamed a few profanities, flinging his middle finger up at another driver before he slammed the car around another block. Dyana's face went green as she held onto the box with her hands. It was a rather big box, she had to awkwardly keep it from dropping onto the ground.

She kept her part of the bargain, so the kid had better come through on his end.

The cab slammed into the front of her apartment complex. She flung a twenty at him and managed to fling the door open, scooting across the seat as she dragged the box with her. It was rather light at least, a collection of weapons and his clothes pressed into clear bags – all shinny dark material she had never seen in stores before. If it was a new fashion trend she hadn't caught on yet.

Then again, when had she ever been ahead of the trend in fashion? She was a jeans and a t-shirt sort of girl. "Thanks," she shouted to the driver, but he was already pulling out and swinging around the corner, probably leaving before she could contract him to help her with the door.

Alec heard the knob turn. He was already sitting forward on her black leather couch, his hands flexed for a weapon nearby, just in case. When he saw the familiar curly haired, green eyed woman walk in, he relaxed.

He hated the clear sort of green in her eyes, it reminded him of….someone else. Everything, everywhere seemed to have that affect on him. A stray cat out on the streets. Someone walking down the road in a very sparkly, out there t-shirt. Blue sparks that spurt forward in the microwave when Izzy had tried to cook something.

"Alright, I got it all," she dropped the box down on the ground. Her arms swung across her chest and her gun continued to glint on her hip.

It wasn't much of a threat, but it had him hesitate from completely taking her out without any weapons in his favor.

"It's a lot of stuff to handle, you might want to sit down," he suggested firmly.

Dyana scoffed, and remained standing. About halfway into his first sentence about Forsaken and what they were compared to what he was, she paled considerably and decided to take a seat as he had originally suggested. She listened to everything. She listened to the talk of shadow hunters, and how there were werewolves and vampires and faries and demons that co-existed with them. She listened to how he described the beautiful city of glass that they came from, and the mortal cup that caused humans to become shadow hunters. She listened to him speak about the treatment of Forsaken, and lastly, she listened about runes.

"That's why I asked about the tattoo on your neck," he finished, eyes sombered. Dyana's hand flinched to touch the black ink mark on her neck.

"Its just…nothing. It means nothing," she insisted, cheeks pallid in complexion. Her skin looked waxy.

"No its not," he argued back, his eyes defiant and gleaming bright, "It's a rune. Its just not one I've ever seen before. And its on a Mundie, which I also don't get." he sounded extremely frustrated and angry by this.

Dyana might have felt bad for him, if she wasn't far more concerned about herself at this moment. "That's, extremely non-comforting," she decided with a frown. "I'm not going to turn into…one of those things am I?"

He snorted, "I doubt it. They get marked with multiple runes. You just have one, and its different."

She breathed a little easier after that, reassured she wasn't going to suddenly become a man hunting, murderous ugly bastard over night. _Take small comforts Cole, small comforts. _

"I want my stele, now." He walked briskly over, ripped open the box. Dyana watched him silently from the corner as he pulled out his bloodied clothes, and then dropped them back before rummaging through the various weapons they had found him with. He seemed instantly relieved as his fingers touched the bottom of the box.

His stele.

"Listen. I can tell something's going on. The police have been dealing with a lot of different…situations. I'm thinking it could benefit us both if we work together," she starred at him unnervingly with her viridian bright eyes. She needed to know more about this world – clearly, somehow she had become part of it.

Alec stiffened. "That's not really allowed, you're a Mundie," he pointed out.

"You know, the way you say that like an insult is starting to piss me off," she scowled, crossing her arms over her chest, "I have every case documented, and can look at new angles to try and find out how they are connected. It might be worth your time to work with a ….mundie."

It made more sense than he cared to admit. He turned around and shrugged, "Alright fine. I'm going to leave an address. Swing by it when you find something – but _only _if you find something," he stressed and scribbled the address of the institute. She'd probably come by and end up thinking it was a practical joke, no harm done in the end.

Dyana closed her hand around the address, her fingers tightened over the piece of paper, "You seem pretty young to have to be dealing with all of this."

Alec just scoffed, he rolled his eyes as he picked up his jacket from the box and threw it on, zipping up the front to protect him from the cold. _That's what my eight hundred and some year old boyfriend said. _But of course he didn't say that. He wouldn't mention Magnus, even to a stranger. "I can handle myself."

And then he was gone, just a shadow crossing through her door, and disappearing where the sun hit the corner. Dyana sunk back into her chair and wondered how much she had just imagined.


	6. Chapter 6: Gone

**Title**: The Mortal Instruments: City of Forsaken Hearts

**Chapter 6: Gone **

**Authors Note**: You guys with your reviews and your follows make me such a happy writer 3 Seriously I stalk my e-mail all day I love it, it really does inspire me to keep getting these updates done so quickly.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of its characters. All respectful material belongs to Cassandra Clare – including the universe created for this story.

* * *

"Maybe we should just go Izzy," Simon cleared his throat, hesitantly suggesting it wasn't in their best interest to continue to annoy Magnus by slamming her fists up against his door when he clearly wasn't taking any consultations at the moment. It had been a reach anyways, he couldn't remember the last time Magnus had actually agreed to help them since Izzy had told him about the fall out with Alec.

Isabelle ran her hands through her hair in a frustrated motion, sinking down to sit with her back against the door. She made a noise of impatience as she slammed her head back against the door. "He's my brother Simon, I can't just go." She gritted her teeth through declaration, tapping her fingers up against her knees.

Simon nodded silently, and then lowered himself to sit down next to her. He flipped his hand open, and welcomed her fingers to lightly brush up against his palm as she accepted the cold contact. He wasn't sure how comforting it was, his hand couldn't be very warm. He hadn't generated human warmth in over half a year.

He would have figured time would have passed quicker when he died. Then again he never thought he'd become a vampire either.

"I really thought Magnus would help," she somberly admitted. It wasn't that she didn't believe in Alec, or didn't believe he was capable of protecting himself. She knew he could handle himself out there, he was an adult in the eyes of the clave. If it was just normal demon activity she would have been more worried for the demons than Alec. She had been up at night, listening to her mother talk about the recent disapperances they had been having when she should have been in bed. Shadow Hunters were just vanishing, without leaving a single trace behind. What if Alec didn't come back? She shivered, tormented by the thought of losing another brother – of being the only Lightwood left.

"Maybe he's just not home," Simon tried to be helpful. He ran a hand down her arm thoughtfully as he nudged her shoulder, trying to draw a smile from her face. It was rare he found Izzy in these moods, she was usually so completely strong and independent. It always surprised him when he realized that she needed somebody like him. Maybe that was why he craved her attention so much – for once she needed him, in a way he knew Clary never would.

Isabelle sighed, flipping her black hair over her shoulder, "Its urgent Simon. I just…I can't keep coming back hoping he'll open the door. I need him now," she flopped her head over onto her knees as she sighed in frustration, slamming her foot against the ground.

Simon watched her rare show of distress and yanked his hand out of hers. He ignored her pithy expression at him as he jumped up onto his feet. "Well, lets get his attention then," he offered, and slammed his fist up against the door. He found with his vampire powers, he could make quite a distruption if he set his mind to it.

"HEY. HEY MAGNUS. OPEN THE DOOR. MAGNUS. I HAVE ETERNITY HERE. I'VE GOT NO WHERE ELSE TO GO FOR QUITE SOME TIME," he slammed his fist up against the door again as he reached down to help Izzy to her feet – not that she needed it. She always landed back on her feet without his help.

Isabelle smirked as he slammed his fist back up against the door, calling for the warlock, vowing to spend the rest of eternity knocking on his door if he didn't answer it. He got through another five minutes of howling at the wood front before the cracks of the door practically splintered off the frame.

Magnus nearly broke the door as he yanked it swiftly open. His glistening cat eyes glared out with contempt as his lips remained in a firm, grumpy expression. "What do you want Sheldon?" he demanded in a snarling tone. He starred at the two of them, with their jaws gaping and eyes wide. He shrugged his shoulders, arms across his chest as he snapped back at them, "What are you gawking at?" Normally he would consider himself fabulous enough to gawk at, but he wasn't quite in the mood at the moment. He hadn't been in the mood for awhile, to be honest.

Their usually ostentacious, and fashionable warlock had what Simon would have considered appropriate wear for a homeless wanderer to sympathetic glances to the tin can he held in his hand. There wasn't a smidge of product in the warlocks hair. It fell flat over his eyes, and was desperate for a trim. There were holes in the black t-shirt he wore, it came right at the trim of the grey sweats he wore.

Actually, it looked exactly like what Clary walked around in when she was in an artistic slump with her paintings, but Simon wasn't going to bring that up.

"Alec," he saw the man flinch at the name of his former lover, and wondered if maybe their tempermental and rude shadow hunter wasn't the only one suffering here, "he's missing, we thought maybe you could help." Simon shuffled his feet against the ground, suddenly uncomfortable. He had never been comfortable with Magnus before. Somehow the eight hundred year old warlock had always reminded him…how ageless he was suddenly, how he kept playing human, pretending he was still…_normal? _

Simon grinded his teeth at the thought – no good now, not one bit.

Magnus glowered as he stood in front of the door, "Oh, I think Alexander is quite capable of getting himelf in and out of his own trouble," he retorted, eyes flashing in a temper they hadn't witnessed in him before.

"That's it? He can get himself in and out of his own trouble?" Isabelle snarled. Her cheeks went red and Simon wondered if he would have to hold her back from lunging at his throat. Her fingernails raked against her side as she paced closer to him, jabbing a finger into his chest, "He could be in pain! He could be hurt somewhere! He could be in danger or god, he could be dead! I thought you cared about my brother!" she yelled, slamming the words into his face.

Temper spiked in those gleaming cat eyes of his, "Don't begin to speak of what I feel for your brother," he suggested in a terse tone, "Consultation hours are every other Wednesday. Get out." he slammed the door before either one of them could argue further.

He felt a tremble of fear work its way through his throat, suffocating him as he turned away from the door and faced his rather lackluster apartment at the moment. He just hadn't been feeling…quite as glamorous as he usually did. Magnus swept a few fingers through his hair, grimacing as they fell back into his eyes.

Alec was missing.

Three words that should have meant nothing, not since he had walked away after discovering how far his shadow hunter had been willing to go in order to make him mortal – to take that choice away from him.

_It was just one mistake. _

He could hear the words ringing through his ears, that look Alec had when he was looking at him, a special reserved look that Magnus had come to appreciate and love – just as he had loved everything about Alec. He loved his fierceness, of how far he would go to protect those he loved. He loved how genuine he was, how brave and strong.

_Just one mistake, Magnus. _

And who was to say that Alec had been the only one responsible for the mistake?

* * *

Alec walked through the blustering cold, not paying particular attention to the streets and the light orbs that glowed in the hazy, effulent clouds of white that winter brought on. Snow was supposed to be a romantic notion, bring fond thoughts of sitting by a fireplace, of making hot chocolate and taking walks where the wind nipped at your nose and the only thing to warm you was the contact of your lovers fingers against your cold, arctic skin.

He thought of blood and darkness instead. The tattoo against the cop's neck continued to disturb him, he wanted to pass it through to Clary as soon as possible. It had been something more, he had practically felt the rune's power from where he had been sitting.

But it was all wrong. The nature of it was wrong. And on a mundane? He wished he knew what it meant. Then maybe he could drive his thoughts towards something less nagging. For now he was stuck on the mystery of Dyane Cole and he didn't want to be.

She was stubborn, like Magnus.

He froze with his thoughts. The name hadn't meant to come out. He hadn't meant to think about him, in any context and especially not to so casually hear his name echo in his thoughts. _Damn it Alec, get a grip. _

Alec snarled fiercly, and picked up a quicker pace as the night slowly pulled its dark shade over the sky. He couldn't see the stars through the cloudy atmosphere, snow continued to come down in small, tiny flakes. His cheeks were blustering red as he skipped a corner.

He was only a block away from home – a block from reassuring his mother and sister. A block from walking into a place that had been home for most of his life. Only a block, and he would have been welcomed into comforting and terrified arms, demanding to know how he could vanish on them for two days without so much as calling. Jace would call them all idiots probably, and side with Alec. It would be nice to have someone arguing with him, rather than against him.

Distance was such a relative term though, he could have been a mile away for comfort it would give his mother and sister while he wasn't there. A light caught his attention, hovering in the sector of space between two rundown, older buildings. One was still a grocery store in use, the other he thought was possibly an apartment that an old lady rarely bothered to come out of. He had noticed she had strange crystals dangling from her ears and wore tiny specks with her grey hair brushed down to her waist once.

Curiosity tugged at him – and he stepped into the shadowed, dark alleyway. He was a shadow hunter, he felt no fear in the darkness as he surged forward to investigate the light. Something cold crept into his soul, but he pushed foolishly forward – when he should have turned back.

* * *

_She pulled on the golden hilt of the broken sword, trapped within the confines of cement. The battle of winds had her honey soaked hair wipping across her slanted, slender face, viridian eyes the color of moss sparkled in the surge of war. She felt no fear, her armor glistened and the mark – the mark for all that she stood for blazed like heaven's wrath against the nape of her neck. _

Clary starred at the portrait, unaware of what she had just painted. How could she be completely unaware of an entire painting? She placed her painbrush down and starred at the picture, the woman bent down on one knee, her neck was exposed to the heavens, the clouds casting judgement against her.

She had drawn the same rune from her dream, and here it was in her painting while she was conscious. Clary scooped her hair out of her eyes and stood up, her back cracked and her knees ached to be in a different position than the studiously, bent position she had stooped for during the six hours she had created the painting.

And she barely remembered any of the creative process.

Maybe it was just a manifestation of her powers, completely normal.

The absolute silence of her creative atmosphere was shattered by the sound of her mom and Luke arguing down the hallway. She couldn't actually remember her mom ever arguing with Luke, they were almost always in agreement about everything. Their relationship was extremely harmonious and pleasant, it had worried her at first that there was something wrong with the amount of aguing she did with Jace compared to Luke and Mom.

Then again, Jace and Luke could hardly be compared as similar people.

She slid the door open and crouched low, creeping closer to the living room to listen to them argue in the kitchen. Her mom was still in her bathrobe, her hair wrapped into a towel as she sunk down in one of the kitchen chairs. Luke leaned up against the counter, his arms across his chest as he glared out the window with a heavy look of consternation.

"It's the seventh member of the pack that's missing, I'm their leader. I have to do something!"

"But what? What can you possibly do Luke? We don't even know who could be behind it," her voice stuck in a deadily whisper.

Clary sucked in her breath, and listened closer. She hoped quietly that it wasn't Maia that had gone missing. She was sure Simon would have mentioned it to her if she was.

"We need to warn Clary," Luke muttered gruffly.

"No!" her mother's voice raised higher. She quickly lowered it, "We both know Clary will try to involve herself, especially if…he's involved."

She didn't have to guess who he was. She knew it, the ugly little voice whispering his name in the back of her head. Sebastian.

Of course he would be behind this, and if he was around that could mean Jace was in trouble. Her whole body shook as she retreated back to her room, Luke and her mom's voice faded as she snuck back to her room and closed the door. As soon as she was clear she quickly yanked on a pair of pants and boots. She grabbed her jacket and zipped it on. She had to warn Jace, her heart slammed into her chest as she stuck her phone into her pocket and then cautiously opened the door and shut it again.

She walked out passed Luke and her mom, who's voices had died as soon as she walked into the kitchen, "Hey Simon forgot his phone. I'm going to run it over to him. I know it will be late, so he'll just walk me back," she grinned, "I don't think anyone will mess with him." the perks of being friends with a vampire, she supposed.

If she mentioned going to see Jace at ten at night there was no way her mom was going to let her out. If it was Simon though…

"Its pretty late honey, I think Simon can survive until tomorrow," her mom muttered dryly.

Clary glanced at the ground, a tell-tale sign she was about to lie her ass off, "I know. Its just that…his sister was going to call him and if Simon misses her, I think it would kill him. Its really meant a lot to him to have some of his family back in his life, he's not as lucky…" she shot a look at both of them, wetting her lips, "He doesn't have people who understand, like I do."

It worked, her mother's eyes went a little moist as she nodded and Clary quickly flung herself out the door before either one of them could protest. At least it wasn't exactly a lie, she truly was grateful to have her mother and Luke who understood what she was, and she didn't have to hide the truth like Simon did.

Clary stepped out into the swirl of wintery winds, and quickly headed towards the institution.


	7. Chapter 7: Warnings

**Title**: The Mortal Instruments: City of Forsaken Hearts

**Chapter 7: Warnings **

**Authors Note**: You guys with your reviews and your follows make me such a happy writer 3 Seriously I stalk my e-mail all day I love it, it really does inspire me to keep getting these updates done so quickly. I've got up to…chapter twenty two outlined just to give you an idea that this will be a longer story. I have no idea how long it will end up being yet – I'll let you know once I finish the outline.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of its characters. All respectful material belongs to Cassandra Clare – including the universe created for this story.

* * *

She walked quickly through the starry glaze of the night, keeping the pink scarf wrapped to a choking point around her neck as she fought off the blistering winds towards the insitutde. Her heart hammered in her chest as she walked swiftly, feeling a paranoid urge to avoid the shadows and walk only in the eerie glow of the effulgent street lights, beaming off a rather yellowish nighttime brightness at the moment.

The institute gleamed with the glamour stripped of it. Clary appreciated its nighttime beauty, the way the moon reflected on all of the windows, and the pale roof that slanted down to where the moss had started to creep up the beautiful man-made brick foundation. It held a sense of home as she walked through the fence and quickly up to the thick wooden door. _I am a shadow hunter and I seek protection _she barely got through the usual request when the door creaked open. Church rubbed against the front pillar of the foyer as she stepped inside.

The lights were all off, and all she could see were the two lit cat eyes of Church as he purred and rubbed against her calf while she closed the door firmly behind her and peeled off her scarf and jacket. She could see the soft light coming from under the door leading to the library, someone doing late night studying she figured. Quietly, she snuck up the stairs and headed for Jace's bedroom.

Each floorboard seemed to creak, she should have put a silence rune on her ankle before coming, but she had been in a deadly hurry. She felt the blood pour and rush to her cheeks as she crept down the hall and spotted the familiar light gleaming under his door. Well, at least she wouldn't be surprising him.

Walking a sleeping shadow hunter wasn't always the bed idea. She had made the mistake with Isabelle once and nearly lost her hand with how quick she had grabbed a dagger from under her pillow.

Since then she learned to use caution with the new found power of being able to sneak up behind a shadow hunter. She turned the knob quietly, and slipped into the room, shutting the door soundly behind her. Her eyes flickered to the straight lines of Jace's shoulders where he was sat at his desk, his room as always was extrodinarily clean and orderly. There wasn't a speck of dust out of place.

He turned around quick, ready to snap at Isabelle to get out. His eyes lit as he saw Clary standing there. A smile stretched handsomely on his lips, "You know Fray, this obsession you have with me is starting to get unhealthy."

Clary scoffed, rolling her eyes as she shrugged her arms over her shoulders and remained leaning against his door, "I actually had a serious reason for coming here this late at night."

"What could be more serious than an obsession over how handsome I am?" he starred at her, with a serious expression in his eyes.

"Sebastian," she said his name quickly, just to get to the point of why she had ran overhere in the dark, when it was half past ten and would soon be circling arould eleven. She watched as the name invoked a twisted expression of guilt and hate in Jace's eyes. She tried to avoid the subject and the name as much as she could, especially when she saw how it twisted up inside Jace and reminded him of all he had overcome.

Jace's shoulders gave a jerk, and he was instantly out of his chair, moving quicker than Clary remembered he could, "Did he come back? Did he hurt you," he inspected her hands, the frown on his face creased his brow as he checked her face hand warming her cheek as he touched her skin gently.

His touch sent a shiver down her spine, she loved how that small piece of intimacy, how a hand against the soft flesh of her cheek and gentle curve of her neck could have her head spinning out of place, all of the thoughts running from her head. "I'm fine, Jace." She intruppted his search, her fingers came up and grasped his wrist firmly.

He studied her with a serious expression, an absolute concern shinning in his eyes as his hand tightened next to his side. Sebastian was never going to get close enough to hurt her again – he had vowed that. He had vowed to kill him without mercy the next time he saw him. And he would follow through with that promise, no matter what.

Clary wet her lips as she continued, "Its you. Jace. I think he might be after you again," she kept her tone level. She wasn't going to give into the sensation of terror – not tonight. She turned her head, his hand sliding towards the back of her head, fingers lost in her red curls.

Jace leaned in close, his lips hovering over her ear as he whispered, "I'll handle him, if he comes anywhere near you…" he let the threat drift off. His hand closed over her hip and suddenly she found herself flat against the door. The doorknob stuck her uncomfortably in the back, but she wasn't about to complain. This type of contact with Jace was so rare. With his existing problem of the heavenly fire running through his veins he had been painfully cautious about having close contact with her.

She hoped at least he was suffering as much as she was.

By the hungry look in her eyes, Clary had a feeling that answered her question. She wrapped her arms around his torso, her viridian eyes flickered up at the dark desire that flickered in his eyes. She tilted her chin just a bit, and welcomed his mouth warm and giving onto hers.

Electricity spiked through his system as he kissed her, his body made a firm hard line fo muscle tight against her and the door. He could feel her fingers balling up into small fists, tight on his shirt as he slid his hand up her hip, her flesh was warm between the hem of the t-shirt and the rise of her pants.

"I might hurt you," he reminded her, closing his eyes as he hesitantly yanked his lips away from her mouth.

Clary nearly growled with frustration, "I can take the risk," she snapped, surprising him with the fiercness in her tone as she grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him back againt her, her lips assaulted his the way a drowning man finally tasted clean, crisp water.

The hesitancy and worry left him as she shifted her body close to him, slightly trying to move away drom the knob sticking her in the back. Jace seemed to understand what she was trying to accomplish. She was suddenly airborn, his arms clamped tight around her body as he dragged her to the bed.

She wanted the hot flesh of his skin against hers, the feel of him tightening around her until the entire world vanished inside that one deep kiss that never separated, never parted. She never get enough of Jace, never become bored or realize she had had enough of the way he set his skin on fire – figuratively speaking of course.

Jace rolled over, pinning her body against his, his hands ran across the length of her torso, sending shivers down her spine as he peeled her shirt off, the lacy black bra caused him to groan and suddenly he was flopping over – away from her.

Her lips were instantly drawing into a pout, her attempt to unbutton the black button up shirt ripped away from her. She starred up at the ceiling, her chest rising up and down as she breathed deeply, out of breath from the moment. "I thought that was going pretty good," she insisted sourly.

"There is no way I'm going to be able to stop with you wearing…that."

"That?" Clary raised an eyebrow as she glanced over at him. "You mean my converse? Because I wear those daily and you usually do a pretty good job of keeping your hands to yourselves when we're in company."

He glanced down once, to stare at her shoes, his face in a self-tortured expression as he looked over at her. "Clary?"

The way he said her name was hot and full of lust, her muscles quivered and tightened at the sound of it and suddenly her voice felt dry and quiet, "yes?" she whispered back, her eyes dark and large.

"Put your shirt on," he ordered in a heavy manner, dumping it back over her chest.

The moment shattered, Clary rolled her eyes as she yanked it over and flipping over him. She hooked her leg around his waist and rested her hands against his shoulders. Her eyes stare at him, quiet in the dim light coming from the lamp on his desk in the room.

He hooked his hands against her hips and starred back at her. "Stay with me?" he whispered, his hands running up and down her thighs. He could remember all of those nights that…the other him had held Clary. A fierce sense of jealous rippled through him.

Clary smiled, she nodded and leaned down to press a kiss against his forehead.

He glanced up, smiling unsure at the sweet gesture. His hand slid through hers as she managed to twist herself back down to laying against his side. Her head rested just against his chest, making the perfect pillow, and she fell asleep with his hand still clutching her small fingers.

She didn't dream that night, not while Jace held her tight and protected her.

* * *

"You've got to be kidding me," Dyana starred at the desk of profiles she had whipped out. It had taken over two days to finally classify all of the missing persons records. She expected more would be flooding in, the people who were missing all seemed to come from…interesting backgrounds. She had a lot of kids who were runaways, they seemed to be in the same sort of gang around the city – from what she could find they never caused any trouble.

Almost all of her missing persons had some sort of a record, and from what Alec had informed her, she was able to select pieces that didn't seem right, where she thought maybe information was edited because the officer on duty hadn't understood what he was dealing with.

Vampires. Werewolves. Warlocks.

She couldn't exactly blame them. She would have edited a police record too if she was dealing with a vampire attack or a weird werewolf orgy happening in the park that went wrong.

"What do you got Cole?" one of the associate detectives swung by her desk. He glanced down at all the missing persons cases, and scowled at the top files he could read, "Why are you bothering with this?"

"Because they are all connected, "Dyana retorted, grimacing as she continued to sort through the files. She had six separate piles, and was organizing them as such. "You see, all of these missing person cases started about a month ago. One person, every day. They are all last seen in one of these six locations. I'm telling you, it's a connection. This isn't random."

God, she almost wished it was random. A world of random teenagers and troubled adults missing made sense. Shit happened after all. But this? This wa something different, and it absolutely reeked of that crazy shit she had learned from the kid she had helped escape from the hospital.

She could still see the…thing…the….whatever the kid called it…Forsaken…drooling over him before she fired a round from her gun.

"I hope these deep thoughts are helpful, because you just wasted five minutes of my life."

"What?" She glanced up at her associate and had the decency to try and look ashamed, "Sorry Rick. You know how it is, just trying to sort all the little details. I'm going to check out these locations. I'll get back to you if I find anything interesting," she didn't wait for her response as she collected her jacket, and then skipped out the door.

* * *

The alley was dark and miserable as she turned her flash light on and started her way down the narrow mouth. There were a few garbage cans slammed across the wall, a metal man hole down to the sewer station was in place and looked bolted down. She checked the red brick walls for any signs or symbols.

Over all it was a huge disappointment.

She had expected something, maybe a strange symbol scribbled against the wall or one of those Forsaken creeps leering in the darkness. Dyana scowled as she pockted her flash light. How the hell was she going to explaint his now? She jammed the light into her back jeans pocket, and started her way out of the narrow opening of the alley.

A man blocked her way, his dark hair falling over bright, gleaming sapphire eyes she could see from a distance. He had a strong face, a slightly crooked nose from getting into a fight, thick lashes. His skin was olive toned in complexion, and he wore all black which made his good looks seem deadly.

He was like a wicked faerie prince from the story books her grandma used to tell her, their language inscripted in the beautiful gaelic language.

He starred up at her, and that handsome visage vanished with a scowl. So much for a prince, she thought and walked closer. Her hand reached in for her badge in cause he was going to give her trouble. Her dark mossy green eyes observed him while the wind carried the cologne he wore off his skin.

God he smelled good.

_Focus Cole. Shit. This is pathetic. _Hello, I'm Dyana. Is what she meant to say, had been on the tip of her tongue. "You're in my way," is what she ended up saying, based on feeling extremely defensive with the way he starred at her.

God she was pretty. He hadn't thought a mundane could catch him unaware like that, but she had just melted out from the shadows. He found his tongue quickly, annoyed by how he had become distracted because of her. He waited for some unintelligent comment to pass her lips, so he could write her off as an attractive, but slow mundane and lose the sudden attraction he had felt.

Instead she told him to move his ass out of her way, and it had exactly the opposite affect. He was almost enjoying blocking her way. "Alley has two days, go the other one," he suggested, his tone testy to see if she'd push him.

Dyana nearly choked on her words. Go the other way? Really? She scowled as she pulled out her badge, "Detective Cole. Move your ass or I'll ticket you."

It may have been the seven sexiest words he had ever heard, he wasn't sure as he cleared his throat, arms wrapped around his chest and ended up sliding over to let her through. He watched her with an appreciative glance as she stalked past him.

"Don't suppose I get anything for being an upstanding citizen?" he sneered at her.

She smirked, "Only the warm, gooey feeling spreading in your heart for doing the right thing," she had her own warm gooey feeling going on but it had nothing to do with being an upstanding citizen.

Caleb grinned, a flicker on his handsome aspect while he watched her turn her back and stalk off again. He admired her until she vanished into the crowd, and then he returned to pulling out his sensor.

The thing went crazy, lighting up and activing like there was a greater demon chilling in the alley.

Now that was interesting.


	8. Chapter 8: Torture

**Title**: The Mortal Instruments: City of Forsaken Hearts

**Chapter 8: Torture**

**Authors Note**: Hey everyone as always thanks so much for the reviews and follows! Also just wanted to mention I do like to return the favor – if you have stories you'd like me to check out and review, drop me a private message, and I am happy to do so. I'm just going to take this moment to remind everyone this is a M-rated fan fiction based on themes of sex, violence and language. Also I apologize for not getting a chapter out yesterday – I'll make up for it with this one. ;)

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of its characters. All respectful material belongs to Cassandra Clare – including the universe created for this story.

* * *

Dyana brushed her fingers across the portraits of the crime scenes, taken in the past two months that depicted the homicides that they were working on, looking for a pattern. Most of them had attributed the deaths to the cold – it was that season of year when the winters were harsh and the famished and homeless were out of luck. She felt her heart thicken, sympathy weighed her down as she went through the portraits one more time.

She stopped at the body she had seen right outside the building where they had found Alec. She glanced at the body, squeezing her eyes and causing lines to crease over her brows as she focused. She remembered how grotesque and mutilated the body had been originally.

"C'mon," she snarled under her breath. She hadn't imagined it. There was no way she that creative of an imagination. And she hadn't been that hyped up on coffee. What she had seen was real, that body had been carved and whittled like a stick of wood in a wood maker's shop. She didn't believe for one second that what she saw in this photograph was the truth.

It manifested to its true form quickly before her eyes. One moment it was a blue lipped, deceased girl with pepper white skin and dark circles around her starving eyes, her ribs sunken into her body – the next the ghoulish expression of the deceased starred up at her in its macabre of dark sins. She could see the faint outline of dark grooves carved into the skin, the flesh split by a knife or something just as sharp.

Its eyes were glossy and full of horror, the irises were bright gold.

There was something completely inhuman about it, but Dyana couldn't put her finger on it. She was still gasping at the photo, and how it suddenly shown her the truth of the crime scene. She placed it down, and picked up another one. This was of a dark haired boy – in the picture he had on a thick wool sweater, and was propped up against a light pole. His skin was winter white, kissed by Jack Frost.

She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated, mumbling under her breath as she bargained with the photo to show her the truth. _Do it and I'll work out twice as hard this week. I promise. _The bargaining wasn't necessary, when she opened her eyes, the truth was revealed.

Fangs dripped from his teeth. Blood was splattered down his throat, and the same funny markings had been carved into his flesh, from his forehead where a third eye had been ripped through the skull and white bone gleamed through the picture, down to his arms and his ankles. She shuddered, placed it down and picked up a third.

She was lovely. Even in death, with her golden curls and a bright pink lips in a smile. She was so incredibly beautiful it ached to stare at her; Dyana remembered the day they had found her one of the cops had teared up because she looked like a little angel.

"Time to see what you really are," she concentrated, scrounging up her face, wrinkling her nose until the image seemed to shift and manifest itself. She didn't have strange colored eyes, or fangs coming from her mouth. The blood that ran from her veins shimmered in the picture. The markings were carved across her skin as they had been in every other portrait but…when Dyana starred closer, she could see other markings, tiny little silver ones that were imprinted onto her skin. As if someone had taken the sheen of soft grey and used it as a harmless tattoo.

The markings jolted her, and she realized she had seen them before. It took her a few moments to place it, the tip of the tongue phenomenon frustrated her, so she stood up and paced as she tried to remember back to where she had seen those same markings. It struck down on her like a bolt of lightening, stunning her.

Alec. The forsaken…whatever it was mindless creature about to attack him. She had teased him about the fork. But on his hand had shimmered, that bright and extraordinary marking. It didn't seem right to call it a tattoo – it was more than that. Why hadn't she noticed it before? Why was it suddenly coming to her now?

Dyana felt a shudder of dread ball up in her gut as she put the picture down and quickly flipped through the others. She counted twelve, twelve young adults with their markings of silver covered up by the blood and torture of having their flesh ripped and sliced open and dark markings skinned in their place.

"Shit. Shit. SHIT." She stuffed the portraits into her bag and slung it across her shoulder. She had to get this to Alec. God, all of this time she had been looking for something to tie the murders and the disappearances together and it was right under her nose! Of course she wouldn't have figured it out, not when it was so well hidden from view to a…Jesus what had he called her?

A mundane.

She smirked, just a tiny bit as she headed outside of the precinct. She didn't exactly consider herself ordinary once she started to see things other people couldn't.

* * *

A shudder ran down the vulnerable, naked flesh as the steel cold knife bit into his shoulder – kissing him gently as the carving peeled away the first layer of skin.

He had learned quickly it didn't do anything to repress the screams. Nobody was going to look at you any different for trying to be strong and bear through it. As the knife dipped deeper, chipping off his bone he screamed until the noise sliced through his larynx.

His forehead was slick with sweat, he leaned forward against the chains, jittering cheerfully with every twist and turn of his body to try and avoid the bloody carving knife. There as a pool of tears and blood mixed under his knees, the cold cement was hard and uncomfortable.

Though not nearly as uncomfortable as this. A voice tickled against the nape of his neck, "You think this is pain, Alexander Lightwood? This is not pain. We are just getting started."

The words did the trick, he felt panic swarm through his mind, and his eyes remained wide and sharp as he winced away from the tantalizing point of the knife. It sank deep into his side, carving near his bottom rib and he screamed, the pain raging like fire blessing the flesh. He tried to squirm away; his arms had lost feeling, hanging above his head in the chains. He wished for the protection of his shirt, the fabric to at least saturate the blood.

As it was the blood ran down his bare flesh, causing goose bumps to appear. The hem of his dark frayed pants shifted against his hips as he once again tried to pull away from the knife. The bare, skeletal feeling fingers placed a patient hand against his side and kept him from moving.

"If I slip, I start over," he warned, his chilled breath washed over Alec's neck.

Alec's breath came out hard and laborious as the knife plunged deep into his side. The sudden depth that the silver dagger went shocked him, and he barely had time to scream before it was dipping back into his sensitive side again. His vision began to blur, darkness was a gentle comfort – a silent blanket cloaking his mind.

As he shuddered into the subconscious he whispered one tiny word – a name that caused his carver to pause and grin.

_Magnus._

* * *

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.

She had actually found a connection. She wasn't a total failure at this cop stuff.

Dyana raced down the sidewalk, the wind slapping in her face, causing her cheeks to go rosy and numb as she fought her way through the crowd of pedestrians on their lunch break. Her heart hammered thickly in her chest.

She had to get this information to Alec. Maybe he was just a kid, but he knew more than she did and maybe with a little luck she could press him into more information.

_You know, a normal person would pretend none of this happened. They would go lock themselves in their room, go to bed, wake up and pretend it was all a dream. They wouldn't rush willingly into a dangerous world of vampires and werewolves and zombie like freaks trying to eat your flesh. _

God being normal was so boring. Who wanted to be normal?

Give her zombies that wanted to eat her eyes – she'd become stronger if she had to. This was…well it was fascinating and in some strange way, it made her feel…involved. In a way she had never been involved before.

Like maybe there was a place in this world for her since she had never found her place in the normal, boring mundane world.

The address had been imprinted into her memory. She didn't need directions or tom-tom to find her way to the gigantic institution – of course to her eyes it looked like a run down piece of crap that was liable for mold infestation and cave ins.

Then again she had thought the kid was homeless, so it didn't completely shock her to find his digs in a state of disarray and potential danger. She swung the gate open and boldly walked forward down the walkway. The thick wooden front door waved intimately in front of her. She took in a deep breath, and walked forward.

Her fingers grasped around the handle and she gave a gigantic yank – nothing happened. She scowled, yanking on the door again. "Oh for the love of God!" she snarled, kicked it, and then yanked again, ignorant to those who watched her in amusement down below.

* * *

"I'll bet by golden handled Kolitker knife she gives up before that door opens for her," Cyrena smirked, propping herself against the window as she starred out.

Taran came up and grinned from behind her, "You are on, they don't even make blessed Kolitker knives anymore. I'd love to own one, especially with a gold hilt that matches my eyes. Come on Caleb, join in the fun," he turned around, smirked at their fearless leader.

If he thought Caleb might crack a smile, or offer up one of his precious treasures from their adventures….Taran had sadly mistaken him for somebody of a lighter mood. Caleb only scowled and walked downstairs, "I'll go scare her off."

Taran sighed, nudging Cyrena lightly, "Don't suppose it still counts as a win in my favor, does it sweetheart?"

She grinned ferociously, reminding him of a wild beast as she hopped up on her toes and winked at him, "Not a chance and…" her elbow drove into his gut quick, driving the breath from his lungs, "Don't call me sweetheart. Got it?" her light, airy voice teased him as she flickered off, soundlessly padding away.

Taran smirked. What a hell of a woman she was. "C'mon Cyrena!" and with that, he enjoyed the chase – and ran after her.

* * *

Caleb stopped at the front door, he could hear her muffled noise of complaint and bargainng from the outside of the door – it nearly amused him, enough so that he stood and listened for a minute, before opening it up and putting her out of her misery.

"Look. This is starting to feel personal. Open the door or….or I'll break window. You might be a church and sacred and all that, but I swear to god. I'll do it. And you know I mean it, because you are a house of God so…open up. Now." She gripped the door with both of her hands, sweat balled in her palms, "I." she gritted her teeth, muscles straining as she pulled, "demand…" her breath sucked into her gut, she applied more pressure, brows furrowed tight, "Entrance!" she gave the biggest yank she had, muscles in her arms burning.

At that moment Caleb, opened the door, and the easiness of how it swung open had her tripping back, and only by hanging onto the door knob, and grabbing onto his arm as he flung the door open, did she keep her footing. One look into those intense, cobalt blue eyes had her thanking every star in the sky she hadn't gone on and fallen or tripped flat on her face.

_I'd rather jump off a bridge than suddenly develop a klutz trait. _She thought with a grim snarl on her poised little features.

Caleb raised an eyebrow, he shrugged her hand off his shoulder and crossed his arms against his chest, the dark black sweater material made every hard line of his muscle stand out.

Dyana checked to make sure she wasn't drooling, which would not be appropriate…or attractive. At all. She starred up at him, for once forgetting what she was about to say. Honestly it was a miracle she was still breathing. She was still back on how firm his arm had felt under her fingers. _I am shallow and I accept it. _

"What?" he snarled at her, raising an eyebrow, "Quit starring at me."

That brought her out of her little fantasy day dream pretty quick, which was too bad. She had been about to remove his sweater with her teeth – in the day dream, that is.

"Not sure why anyone would want to stare at you, now I on the other hand…" Jace stepped out, starring at the woman with an arrogant smirk. He widened the door, leaned up against the side and watched her blink from man to man in a confused state.

"This is Clave business, go away,"

"No its not," Jace rolled his eyes, "Why don't you go look brooding and miserable somewhere else," he suggested.

Clary managed to squeeze herself between the two men, her red hair the most prominent color between the three of them and what Dyana chose to fixate her stare at, so she didn't get accused of mindlessly oogling the mysteriously brooding man again. Which was what she was absolutely going to call him later tonight when she continued to fantasize about what was under that dark sweater, luckily it left very little to her imagination. She wasn't terribly creative.

"Can I help you?" Clary asked, watching her closely. Her fingers itched for the brush again – all those wild honey curls around her rosy cheeks, the bright viridian of her eyes as she starred at them all, a recognizable face, with the slight overbite in her teeth, the broad forehead and the dimples in her cheeks.

She wasn't a ravishing beauty like Isabelle, but she was pretty – which sent a pang of jealousy through Clary as it always did when pretty woman were gapping at Jace.

Actually, she hadn't seemed to pay much attention to Jace yet. Which was good for his ego. Clary smirked to herself.

Meanwhile, Dyana manged to regain the power of speech. She unhinged her jaw and prayed for sound to come out, "Alec. I'm looking for Alec."

Whatever they all thought she was going to say – it hadn't been that.

Jace instantly moved forward, grabbing her arm tight, his eyes frozen on her face, "You've seen him? Where is he? WHERE IS HE?" he demanded, his grasp bruising her skin.

Dyana's eyes darkened, she yanked her arm from his grasp and rolled her fingers lightly over the bruised flesh, "Not in two days. I have something to show him." She starred at them, scowling deeper.

"What the hell is this anyways? Some lost boys and girls home? You hardly seem like the charitable type," she squared her eyes up at Caleb, who returned it with a gruff snarl.

"This is the institude, downworlder. You have no place here."

"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?" she snarled into his face. First it was mundane. Now it was downworlder? What the hell did that mean. Her fingers curled into a fist. She really didn't know what overcame her. One minute she was just thinking about punching him in that perfect smug face of his.

And the next moment she heard her knuckles contacting with his face.


	9. Chapter 9: Attacked

**Title**: The Mortal Instruments: City of Forsaken Hearts

**Chapter 9: Attacked**

**Authors Note**: Hey everyone, hope you all enjoyed the last chapter. I just want to put in a note that I will be joining in on the Christmas fun of doing writing prompts for the twelve days leading up to Christmas and that starts pretty soon. I think tomorrow. I'll post them somewhere on as well as tumblr and I'm pretty sure I'll still update as regularly as every night but just in case I skip a night or two – that's why, its because I've now doubled my mortal instruments writing.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of its characters. All respectful material belongs to Cassandra Clare – including the universe created for this story.

* * *

Her knuckles throbbed as she winced and brought her tight fist back into her chest, squeezing her hand over the bruised bone as she glared up at Caleb. "What the hell is your face made of," she accused, pacing back as she shook her hand to try and rid herself of the burning sensation.

It was like coming in contact with concrete or…titanium.

"Caleb's always had a pretty thick skull," Taran grinned at Caleb's expense, nudging him in the ribs as he stood up next to him.

With his eyes as hard as sapphires, Caleb shook his head, his cheek bruised and his lip bloody and inflamed. Jesus, for a girl she could hit. "Don't play innocent, witch."

"What the fuck is your problem!" she lunged for him, with her nails prepared to gouge into his cheek. The burly red head barely stopped her, catching her around the waist and dragging her back, he mumbled into her ear that this wasn't a fight she would win.

But damn it she could inflict some damage to that pretty, cocky face of his.

"Where the hell is Alec! Where the hell is he?" she snarled, all the way through the door, her voice carrying as Taran managed to shove her out to the front steps. The door slammed behind her, its thick wood silencing the sounds of voices from behind. She felt a stone lodge into her throat as Taran let go of her. She stepped back several steps, breathless and her eyes wielding.

He placed a hand out, eyes serious, "Look. We'll take care of our own. You can go."

"What?" she blurted out, her hands clawing into fists. "I promised Alec. I promised to help him." It was just a promise to a kid…who cared if she broke it? When she closed her eyes, she saw the pictures of all those brutalized, woefully inflicted and tortured people. Could she honestly stand back and let that happen to the surly and angry boy she had stayed with for two days in the hospital? She knew him, too much to distance herself and consider him an unfortunate casualty to something bigger.

Maybe he was a kid she hardly knew, and maybe he'd probably think she was silly and reckless and had a pretty boring and unfulfilled life to care about a promise she gave to a kid. So what. She knew what she found out was important, that there was a bigger picture here that the right people needed to see.

Alec had been her connection to the right people. It was obvious these strangers weren't going to help her. "You're making a mistake!" He had to know that, they all had to see that. She felt the frustrated heat rise into her cheeks as she stood her ground. The air nipped against her cheeks, but her skin had gone numb.

"Go home," pity swarmed in his eyes as he turned his back and walked away.

Dyana felt the breath rush from her lungs, the sensation of the wind knocked straight out from her gut. "Fine." she watched him walk back into the shambled cathedral church. She'd find him herself. Maybe if they didn't help her, maybe someone else who Alec knew would. Someone she had mistaken him for the first time he had woken up in the hospital, and she had watched that similar expression of heart break cross through his eyes. Maybe she'd just hunt down Magnus. Old boyfriends were common leads when it came to a missing persons case.

And first thing she was going to do when she got home was filing a report and get his picture up. If these people were supposed to be taking care of him, she considered they were doing a pretty shitty job.

* * *

"What?" Isabelle's jaw dropped to the ground. She managed to pull off looking enraged and stunned while being heart stopping beautiful all in one moment. Her fingers flexed against her side as she paced back and forth, eyeing Jace and Clary who had agreed to tell her together. "You are telling me, some random down worlder came here, asking for Alec and they just..sent her packing on her way?"

Clary winced, "I'm sure we can find her again. She was in a cop's uniform, can't be that hard," or at least she hoped. "Simon's already trying to track her down through Google."

"Google? Who the hell is Google?" Isabelle seethed. She had been the only one taking Alec's disappearance seriously. She should have been notified immediately. This wasn't up to their…guests. She gnashed her teeth together in a proper fit of rage. "I'm going to murder all three of them. Who do you want Jace?"

"I'll take down the cocky one," his gold eyes glinted at the challenge.

"NO! NO! NO!" Clary snapped, starring at the both of them with a disappointed shake of her head, "We are not attacking other shadow hunters. Your mother will have a fit." Which was true, plus she wasn't all sure it was a fight Jace and Isabelle would walk away from – maybe limp, or crawl. And like hell either of them was proud enough to ever crawl.

Jace snorted, "We? There's no we. You are staying far away from here where you are safe from them," he turned towards Isabelle, tuneing out Clary and asserting himself only to her now, "I'll take the brooding one and the big one. You can have the girl."

"Why? Because I'm a girl?"

"Well….yes."

"GUYS." Clary nudged herself in between the two, waving her cell phone up, out of breath as she tried to keep her body in between theirs, "Simon found out who she is. Dyana Cole down on the precinct at the corner of Smith and Webber. I for one would like to know more about what she had to say and find Alec." She eyed them both hopefully.

Isabelle backed up; she nodded as she placed her dagger back into the side of her jeans, "Fine. Lets go. Alec could be in trouble. I've got to tell you what I heard mom talking about earlier," her eyes darted to the hallway, as if afraid someone would overhear her, "Just not here. Lets go meet up with Simon."

Clary nodded, grabbing Jace's hand as they quickly shuffled out.

* * *

Simon waited under the lamp light, the sun was beginning to set against the horizon and the winter span of milky white skies had caused the dark to swiftly come upon them. He stuffed his hands into his jacket and entertained himself by puffing out loudly as people passed, and seeing their confusion when a smooth round puff of air never passed from his breath – probably because it was the same temperature as the outside air.

He just didn't retain warmth as he had being human.

The cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He clicked it open smoothly, "Clary?" he instantly asked, expecting to hear some elaborate, and probably dangerous or life-threatening plan that involved finding this Dyana Cole.

"Simon…its me." Isabelle's voice came out, smooth and sweet as caramel.

His fangs seemed to flex at the thought of that warm, delicious blood that coarsed under her veins. He struggled uncomfortably for a moment, forgetting to feed as he often did. Maybe Rafael had been right, he ran with the shadow hunters and the humans too much, he forgot what he really was.

"Hey," he sputtered out, running a hand through his hair and feeling unusually clumsy. He still didn't see what on earth a girl like Isabelle Lightwood saw on him. She always manged with her mere presence to confuse or stun his thought process.

Her voice was heavy and miserable, "Alec's still missing."

"I know," he soothed, hoping his voice came out as reassuring as possible, "We will."

"Clary said you know where this Dyana works?" she held her breath waiting on the other end of the line.

He shrugged, "Yeah she wasn't hard to track down. Listen if it would help we can go –,"

"Simon?"

* * *

Isabelle frowned as the phone went into static. She glanced over at Clary and Jace, suddenly a loud noise erupted from the cell phone. It was a high-pitched screeching noise, and from the background she heard Simon yell.

"SIMON?" Isabelle shouted into the cell phone, she whirled around at Clary and Jace and starred at them with wide, frightened eyes. She turned around then, and seemed to sprout wings with how fast she moved along the cement to where they were planning on meeting Simon.

People blurred around her, she knocked down an elderly lady with her elbow as she dashed past them. Her boots scuffed against the cement, she could hear Jace coming behind her and Clary struggling to keep up with their trained speed as shadow hunters. Her fingers were itching for the feel of her whip – each heartbeat was in desperation for Simon to be okay.

She had already lost Alec. She couldn't lose Simon too, not both of them at the same time.

Isabelle skirted around the corner, the shadows had all but engulfed the sidewalk and the bench where Simon had been sitting. The dark outline of trees was disturbed, branches broken and tree limbs dangling off. Leaves had crunched to the ground and a dark oozing substance had stained the soft, crystalline snow.

"This way!" Jace shouted, vanishing into the thicket of woods. He didn't think twice as he ran off after whatever took Simon.

Isabelle nodded and followed behind him, shooting an urgent glance behind her to Clary to hurry up and keep pace with them. She followed in Jace's footsteps, hearing his breath come out in a rhythmic rush of chilled inhalations and exhalations.

"SIMON!" she screeched his name as she broke through the first clearing. The cloud was a dark, threatening black. She barely could see a few feet in front of her as she took out her witchlight and allowed its warm glow to light her path. From a distance she heard the sound of more branches breaking. It set her back on her heels, flying towards the sound of the disruption.

Something flew straight at her, and she had just enough time to brace herself, the solid object rammed into her chest and long arms suddenly flung around her, keeping them upright. Simon's flickering, panicked eyes starred at her in shock as he suddenly realized what he was holding onto and tightened his grasp around her.

"Isabelle. Run!" he groped down to grab her hand and yanked her from behind. She suddenly tossed her arms tight around him, crushing him in an embrace as she pressed her cold cheek against his.

"Don't ever do that. Ever." She warned him in the crest of his ear, pressing her face into the crook of his neck as she held onto him for just a moment.

Simon fell silent, he wrapped his arms tighter around her and held her for a moment, his eyes alert and flickering out into the shadows, "I won't." he managed, his voice tight as anxiety crept up his spine, "But Isabelle that thing…" he flinched, just remembering it.

Whatever it was, had come out of nowhere. Its…tentacle or arm or whatever had suddenly wrapped itself around his ankle and dragged him half way through the forest. He had done some damage, clawing at it with his broken fingernails. It wasn't until he used his teeth to cut straight through the disgusting thick slimy material of the demon that he had managed to free himself.

It had screamed something wretched, and he had flung himself into the darkness before it could wrap itself around him again – but that didn't mean it wouldn't come back.

He impatiently tugged on her hand, "We should go, and you can come back with Jace."

Isabelle paused, starring off into the distance over his shoulder, "It could lead me to Alec…" and suddenly she was dashing around him, and running straight into the danger.

If Simon had had a beating heart, it would have jumped right through his chest. He swore, wondering why girls who ran into danger fighting demons were so hot. And then he ran after her.

"Isabelle! ISABEEEEELLE!" Simon called out as he tried to keep up with her, dodging through trees in the dark even with his supernatural side wasn't his best talent when he was frantic and his thoughts kept circling around to her.

He ended up smashing face first into one, reeling onto his back from the rather thick oak stump and falling onto his back. A few little stars were peeking out from the sky and they blurred together as he starred up at them, his mind reeling.

* * *

"Simon?" Clary glanced down at him, red hair falling in clumps around her shoulders as she sunk down to her knees and put a hand against his shoulder. She watched him with a wary expression as she helped him into a sitting position, dusting off the snow from his shoulders and along his back.

"Are you okay?" she asked, eyeing him with concern as she bit down on her lip. She glanced around, the cold winter air suddenly very prominent on her skin in the dark night. She hadn't grabbed a very warm coat. She remembered holding onto Jace's hand, he was yelling at her to stay behind him and then…somehow she let go. How could she let go?

She wanted to kick herself right now – how could she possibly let go and now she was lost in the middle of the start of a blizzard with Simon who looked dazed and extremely uncomfortable for a vampire.

Simon grunted, he managed to shake loose the snow from his hair, "I'm alright," he mumbled between spitting out clumps of snow that had spurted into his mouth when he had slammed backwards.

"Where's Isabelle?" she grabbed him from the arm, and they helped each other up – as they always had done, and continued to support one another as the December winds howled around them.

Simon glowered, "She ran off, I don't even know what direction," he kicked his foot through the snow, spraying it up on the tree.

"Any chance you know what direction is the main road?"

"Nope."

"Perfect." Clary sighed, turning around and trying to squint her eyes to visualize the right way, "Uhm…maybe…this way?" she pointed randomly. Simon drew in a sigh behind her.

They both started forward, with no real idea of what direction to go.

Clary frowned as she looked through the haze of snow billowing up in front of her face. She tugged on Simons jacket, turning her head as she tried to make out a dark figure standing barely fifteen feet in front of them. "JACE?" she called out to him and started to trudge forward.

"CLARY! CLARY NO ONE'S THERE!" Simon tried to holler after her as she continued to skid forward, slipping on the wet slush under her boots as she went.

For a moment the snow seemed to fade, and she cut right through the blistering winds and cold, and saw the man standing there with his poised, sinned features. As Lucifer was handsome, so was he and he smiled at her, with his eyes gleaming in darkness and madness and a loneliness that echoed and drove him to mayhem.

Sebastian.

She choked on the frozen air, slipping against the earth, eyes wide and frightful as she suddenly flung herself back, heart ramming inside of her chest. He was here. He was alive and he was right there. She could remember the feel of him over powering her, smashing her face against the ground…holding the cup up to her lips, trying to force her to drink…_controlling Jace._

"CLARY!" Simon grabbed her arms, swung her around, his eyes were wide and alarmed as he starred at her clammy and petrified expression, "What is it?!"

She glanced back, and there was nothing there. Nothing at all.

"S-Sebastian," she managed to choke out, "He was right there. Simon I swear, he was right there."

"Okay. Okay. I believe you," he drew an arm around her, glancing behind her shoulder to wear there had been nothing, at least nothing he had seen when she ran off.

"Lets try to get out of here, we can figure it out later," he promised, sounding like old dependable Simon that she had always replied on.

Clary numbly nodded, and together they battled their way out of the storm.


	10. Chapter 10: Message

**Title**: The Mortal Instruments: City of Forsaken Hearts

**Chapter 10: Message**

**Authors Note**: Hey everyone, thanks for the reviews and follows! It really makes my day I love hearing from you guys and it really does motivate me to update quicker. Also make sure if you enjoy my mortal instruments writing to check out short 12 prompts for the 12 days of Christmas on my fanfiction account! Just something fun I am doing to get in the spirit of the holidays! Hope you enjoy.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of its characters. All respectful material belongs to Cassandra Clare – including the universe created for this story.

* * *

Clary held onto Simon, her arms frozen around his arm as they fought their way through the heaving storm that toiled and slammed against the unsuspecting New Yorkers. The wind was bitter, blistering against her skin as she tried to hide her face against her shoulder.

There was a stinging sensation against her eyes, and any tears that trickled down her cheeks stung and inflicted pain. She wanted warmth; the feeling of fire roasting in front of her open palms…and then an idea came to her. "S-Simon" her teeth chattered as she paused, drawing out her stele that felt especially cold and burning in the palm of her hand.

Simon paused, the snow up to his calves as he turned against the storm and shielded his eyes against the blustering gale. "W-WHAT?" he stuttered against the weather in response as he starred at the stele she pulled out. He couldn't think of any of her special runes that would help her now. His own temperature remained as chilled as granite. The sudden drop in temperature didn't affect him like it did to Clary.

Clary dug the stele into the side of her wrist, drawing a very simple marking of circles and spirals. Heat suddenly blazed to life in her veins. The snow turned to droplets of water as it pelted against her back. She inhaled deeply, relieved to the warmth that trickled through her veins, "Okay lets go."

"Clary…. we've been walking in circles." Simon sounded frustrated as he starred ahead of him. Where the hell was Isabelle? In his gut he knew she must have caught up to the demon. Damn it. What if she was hurt?

"I know. I know! I don't know a rune to give myself a better sense of direction," Clary moaned, twisting her fingers through her sopping wet carrot top head. She turned and noticed Simon was set in an unusually serious mood.

"Clary what if…" the words stuck in his throat, "What if they vanish like Alec…"

"They won't." she instantly rebutted the idea, denying the possibility. Jace was…Jace. It wouldn't happen again, he wouldn't let it….he wouldn't put her through that again. He wouldn't.

"But what if they _do_," Simon insisted, his stomach felt sick and it rolled nauseously. When was the last time he had fed? Shit.

Clary shook her head, "Simon, look at me." She placed both of her hands against his shoulders, her eyes squared against him, "We're best friends, right?"

He frowned, not really seeing how the two related, "…Right."

"Okay," her fingers released the tension against his shoulders, and there was relief in her tone, "That means no matter what happens, if Isabella or Jace or both are missing tomorrow, we're going to stick together and find them. Because that's what we do. We see each other through these things."

"Actually you usually run off and do something incredibly stupid and suicidal while I support and enable you – but I guess they are the same things," Simon considered, tone slightly mocking as she cuffed him on the shoulder.

"Shut up, my ideas are brilliant," despite the weather, and the fear she had for Jace and Izzy, Clary managed to smile. And it was all because of Simon.

She grabbed his hand and pointed through a thicket of tree's, "C'mon I don't think we went in a circle over in this direction."

* * *

The sun glinted heavily in the mid-morning; a layer of heavy snow blanketed the earth, crystalizing trees and sidewalks, creating an entirely different world. It was beautiful, and all the blemishes of the human world were for now, covered up by an illusion of something soft and pure and white.

Clary and Simon came trudging through the firm wall of evergreens and tall, ancient oak trees, leaving a heavy trek of footprints from their path behind. A Street cleaner came through, shoving the snow onto the side paths, leaving mounds and clumps of snow for Clary and Simon to battle climbing over.

When Clary's feet hit the cement, she nearly cried out, thanking the angel for finally getting them out of that goddamn forest. "I never want to see a tree again," she sniffed indigently, focusing her eyes back on the road as she trudged back to the institute.

Simon plodded next to her, his fingers squeezed into tight fists rolled up in his pockets, "If Izzy is there…" he mumbled, not able to finish the request, ducking his head so she wouldn't see the desperation and fear in his eyes. He didn't like being tangled up after a girl like this, not like a girl with Izzy who was sure to stomp over his heart with those thick wedge boots of hers that Jace and Alec had laughed about the first time he had followed her around.

"I'll send her out," Clary promised, resting a hand on Simon's shoulder. She squeezed it reassuringly, "You know, they are probably out looking for us, so don't get too freaked if I go in and nobody is there," at least she hoped.

Simon only nodded dully, stomping to rest against the wall, his eyelids shut, "I'll wait here, its close enough," he murmured, barely loud enough for Clary to hear.

She didn't say much, just squeezed his hand once and then turned back on her heels, quickening her pace to the institute. It was two blocks away and she felt each step trudging through the deep snow had her limbs heavy, her bones thick and muscles sore. She was exhausted; as soon as she knew Jace and Isabelle were back she was going to sleep for a week. Maybe longer. A month would be good.

Or you know, a year.

She rushed through the front gate of the institute, reaching its ancient and charming coble stone leading up to the door. She pushed it open and walked in. Church was there to greet her, purring around her ankles as he twisted himself and weaved through her legs. She bent down and picked him up, bringing him into her chest for warmth.

"JACE?! ISABELLE?!" She hollered out, glancing back at Church, "I don't suppose you know where they are?"

"They're gone," a voice cracked through the silence, surprising Clary. She let out a small shriek and jumped, her heart pounding in her chest as she spun around and on the staircase stood Caleb.

"Where did they go?" her voice was dry, heart pounding in her chest as he leaned forward and walked stiffly over. It occurred to her he had never been alone. He was always surrounded by Taran or Cyrena, and she had always been with Jace or Maryse when he was sulking around.

"Oh, they're out there somewhere…looking for you," he rolled his eyes, tone bored as he flicked a piece of lint off the banister,

Clary's throat thickened as she moved back from the door, "Okay, well. If they come back around, you'll just tell them I stopped by, right?"

Caleb glanced over, seemed irked that she would ask him for a favor. He shrugged subtly, "I guess so, if I'm here."

"Where else would you go?" her tone came off far more judgmental than she meant, and suddenly she was narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"Places," he interrupted, starring at her with a mockery expression before brushing past her, heading into the kitchen. Church jumped from her arms and Clary watched in shock as the cat padded silently after the man.

Goosebumps were prominent on her flesh from running into him. She shivered, missing the warmth in her skin again before turning around and slamming the door closed. The air slammed into her face as she quickly walked around the corner and back the two blocks to Simon.

He was there, eyes closed and soaking up the sun. He seemed almost peaceful and unflinching – like a statue made of porcelain. It was easy to forget that he wasn't the mortal, geeky best friend Simon she had known all her life, that he was this…supernatural creature now she swore to continue to protect. He was still Simon, even if he did have a better fashion sense and caught every girls and boys eye on the block.

"They weren't there, but Caleb was. He confirmed that Isabelle and Jace came back. Simon. They're fine," she reached out and squeezed his hand, smiling under the façade of how spooked she had gotten talking to Caleb.

For the first time since last night, Simon relaxed and nodded. "Okay good. Lets…just go wait at Luke's. They'll come by there sooner or later, right?" he looked to her for confirmation.

Clary nodded stiffly, "Sounds like a good idea to me."

Simon flickered a smirk, "Of course it is. You didn't come up with it." he barely missed her elbow him through the ribs.

* * *

The knife slid through his eyeball, and the boy screamed, razor cries that slit through his larynx. The warm blood pooled to the floor, soaking into his knees where he listlessly dropped forward. Sweat dripped from his forehead, the heat was unbearable in the room and the metal cuffs burned against his wrists. His arms were heavy and sore.

He didn't know it, but his heart was failing him. He was giving up, losing hope, as the darkness seemed to shroud around him. His exposed back was flayed, the skin rotting and a massive piece of raw flesh. He could hear little tiny black bugs buzzing around, festering on his open flesh.

There was nothing he could do to stop them.

Powerless his body swayed with the chains. He felt a blow to his stomach, a rib cracked and the sound echoed through his head. His body slumped forward, trying to avoid the contact; he felt bile rise in the back of his throat. Tears burned his eyes, and he cried out where the bloodied socket unleashed blood soaked tears.

_You are nothing. You are nobody. You belong to me. _

The voice whispered into his ear, reminding him that nobody had come to save him, that nobody was going to save him. Every day he had to remind himself of a few details or else he'd go mad. His name was Alec. He was a shadow hunter. He had a sister named Isabelle, a brother named Jace and brother who had died, Max. His parents were Marsye and Robert. He loved Magnus Bane.

_He loved Magnus Bane. _

That helped him remember the best, even better than his name. Every time he thought it…for just a moment…he regained strength and he could fight again.

* * *

Magnus bolted out of bed. His breathing was heavy and the feeling of his heart exploding out of his chest left him with a tight, uncomfortable feeling as he rolled onto his stomach and turned on the lights. The bedroom was bare of all the horrors he had witnessed behind closed eyes.

So much blood.

He grabbed the nearest pillow and flung it over his head, trying to block out the images and the noises. The bloody tear streaks that had stripped down the boy's one cheek where his eye had been forked with a knife. Magnus felt his stomach roll. He had seen wars. He had killed men and women – his past was as ugly as it was long. He had never seen anything, or been affected as strongly, as the dream he had.

If it was a dream. That's what caused his gut to wretch and revolt. His body was cold and clammy; he felt a raging headache come on. He could hear Alec's thoughts. _He loved Magnus Bane. _

"Fuck it," he grumbled, rolling out of the bed, so his bare feet hit the wooden floors and sent a chill through him. He padded into the kitchen, the lights automatically flickering on as he walked over and grabbed a rather thick, black box from the shelves. The key materialized out of thin air, and he flicked it into the box, cranking it left and opening the lid cautiously.

He peered down at the fairly harmless looking black leather book, no title and nothing to distinguish it from anything else.

The book of Abaddon; destroyer of angels.

He flipped the book open, a cold dread slamming into him as he turned the pages and glanced to the circle of his living room. It was going to be a very, long night. And he was out of candles, he would have to go buy out the department section at Bed, Bath & Beyond.

* * *

The first thing Clary did when she walked into her house was reach for her cell phone charger and plug it in. She paced around the room, her eyes darting to the screen until it finally lit up and became active. She all but leapt across the living room floor for it.

She speed dialed Jace and held it up to her ear, heart racing as she waited to hear his voice, the guilt cut in deep on how worried he must have been. Maybe next time they would reconsider chasing after a demon. Simon had slid onto the couch, his bones becoming liquid.

The phone dialed out, and hit the message system. A scream of frustration wanted to erupt, but instead she managed to keep herself calm, "Jace. It's Clary. Simon and I are fine, we just got lost. I'm home now…call me when you get this. Bye." She hung up and walked over to fall onto the couch next to Simon.

He groggily picked the wool blanket draped on the back of the couch and tucked her in against his side as he smoothed it out across them. His head slumped back and his arm fell around Clary as she caved around him and let her head fall against his chest.

It didn't occur to her how strange it was anymore that there was no heartbeat.

They fell asleep like that, drifting into an exhausting, deep comatose sleep. They would have stayed like that for hours, and did for several minutes until the front door slammed open and then shut again, nearly breaking off the frame.

Clary woke with a start, jumping two feet in the air and spinning around, peering over the back of the couch with caution.

She found herself a bit irritated that Jace, who had dark circles under his eyes and the cold raw against his face still seemed incredibly, and unfairly handsome.

His eyes met hers and something finally released in his chest, a pressure that had been building since his hand had lost hers and he hadn't been able to find her.

"Where the hell have you been?" He exclaimed, walking forward quickly.

"You know, just felt like a stroll through the woods," Clary muttered, expecting him to slide his arms around her. Instead Jace took her by the shoulders, and crashed his lips against hers.

Warmth exploded through her body, and she tossed her arms around his shoulders. From somewhere a content sigh released and she angled her head to kiss him deeper and longer with his hand trailing down her spine. She curved around him, feeding off the fire and heat his body radiated with the heaven's fire in his flesh.

"Excuse me," Simon coughed, glaring at the both of them, "If you could save the fornication for another room not commonly used for family game night, I'm sure Luke would appreciate it."

Jace made a face, cupping Clary's face in his hands as he ignored Simon – just another thing he excelled at. "Clary I thought…when we couldn't find you again…" his voice snapped. It just…snapped at the end.

Clary held her breath as she reached up, her hands sliding over his, "I know. I was worried too."

He scoffed at that, starring at her with an incredulous face, "Why?"

"…you…went after a…demon?" she sputtered out, starring at him. "Normal people worry about that kind of stuff, Jace," she pointed out, glaring at him.

Jace shrugged, "I'm not your normal shadow hunter," he reminded her, grinning.

"You're not normal anything," Simon muttered from the couch.

"Says the vampire who sunbaths," Jace whipped back.

Simon opened his mouth, and then closed it at the expression Clary sent at him. He crossed his arms and settled back into the couch with a frown.

"Great. We're all fine. Can we at least try to get along?" she eyed both boys, disappointed when they continued to either stare at a wall or down at their feet. Her face crumpled, "Never mind," she tried.

There was still a gold star for trying, right?

"Clary," Jace gripped her arm, looking over at Simon and then shrugging. He guessed the vampire could hear the news as well, "Before Isabelle and I killed the demon. It told us something, we weren't going to believe it but…" his voice dropped and he seemed uncomfortable as he starred at the wall.

Clary watched him, concerned by the way his face seemed to pale, "What? What did it say?"

"He said…._The Clave will fall," _Jace's voice tightened as he mimicked the message in a deeper, baritone voice. "We took the message to Maryse and…when she tried to contact the Clave…nobody was there to answer," he squeezed her hand tight, "We're going to have to go maybe…and don't even start, because you know you need to go too. Anyways I need to call Maryse to see how we are on the preparations for the trip."

Clary raised her eyebrows as he leaned in to peck her cheek before walking out to the kitchen to use the phone. Well…it wasn't like she hadn't made her own portal before.


	11. Chapter 11: Preparation

**Title**: The Mortal Instruments: City of Forsaken Hearts

**Chapter 11: Preparation**

**Authors Note**: Hey everyone, thanks again for the reviews and follows – absolutely LOVE hearing from you and comments on the story thus far! Hope you enjoy this chapter and yeah, let me know what you think! Enjoy : )

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of its characters. All respectful material belongs to Cassandra Clare – including the universe created for this story.

* * *

"JACE LIGHTWOOD YOU ARE NOT COMING WITH AND THAT IS THAT," Maryse Lighwood finished in one long huffed breath, cheeks red and her long ebony hair a little frazzled as she grabbed a few knives off the desk to pack. She shot him a contemptuous, warning look not to push her any farther. They had been arguing on this matter for over an hour.

Meanwhile, Luke and Jocelyn continued to pack behind her, the three of them moving in a familiar unit of teamwork and connection. What task Luke seemed to drift from Jocelyn would finish. Where Maryse suddenly needed help, Luke was there to pitch in. They worked flawlessly and non-verbal, the years of fighting side by side for similar causes had led to this connection.

The air was heavy and Clary felt an uncomfortable stone lodged in her chest, her eyes watched her mother for any signs of worry. She had creases and wrinkles near her brows and eyes – worry wrinkles. Clary knew those well enough, she had been the main cause of them for long enough over the years. She cleared her throat as her mother grabbed onto the handle of a large axe; its silver glinted under the lights. "Mom?" her voice echoed with concern.

Jocelyn glanced back, her dark cerise hair falling over her shoulder as she swept a hand through it and handed the axe off to Luke who was suddenly at her side, "What honey?" she began to rifle through the bag, checking its contents as she watched her daughter from the corner of her eye.

Clary could still remember when her mother had been the poster mom for paint splatter jeans and colorful pastel blouses. It was hard to see her in shadow hunter wear, looking just as fierce as Maryse. "What if three of you isn't enough?"

There could be an army waiting for them, all they knew was a word from a demon and the unfortunate moment when the Clave had been unable to respond after Jace had burst in with the news. Of course it had stirred a wave of concern. Maryse had alerted Jocelyn and Luke immediately, and they had agreed to go together – only the three of them.

"Its going to be fine Clary, we'll have the nearby Pack's help if we need them," Luke assured her for Jocelyn as he picked up a bag and tossed it over his shoulder. He gave her a reassuring smile as he passed by.

"But what if you need me…"Clary interjected, her eyes wide.

"Or you know, me," Jace shot in from the doorway. He and Isabelle stood flank by flank, their eyes enraged as they were left out of the action. "It wouldn't be the first time I've come to the rescue! I'm the best hunter out there!"

This wasn't exactly an exaggeration. Clary had yet to find someone who could match Jace. It was a point he brought up often to suit his purposes.

"You three are staying here!" Maryse shoot a withering look behind her to end the argument.

"Alone?" Clary's voice erupted; she starred at the three of the adults with a raised eyebrow, her lip muscles twitched, wanting to smile. She wasn't allowed to sleep over at the institution, much less sleep over alone without adult supervision.

Maryse ducked her head as she picked up her bag, "Of course not. Caleb and Cyrena and Taran will also be staying."

"We will?" Caleb coughed, raising an eyebrow from the doorway. He didn't seem exactly pleased as he crossed his arms over his chest and starred at the three children in the room. He wasn't exactly babysitter material. His lips formed a wry smile.

Maryse's shoulders pinched together as she straightened herself out and glared across the room at him, "If you want accommodations here, you will," she confirmed, her voice tight.

Caleb shrugged, "How much trouble can they get in?"

Clary glanced across the room to see Jace's homicidal expression, she had a feeling Caleb wouldn't like the answer to that question. She set her lips tight as Jocelyn walked over and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"We're going to be fine Clary, I'll update you tonight," she used the soft, soothing voice she used whenever Clary had been sick, or injured as a child.

For a moment it did the trick, and Clary felt soothed. She nodded, wrapping her arms around her mother one last time before she left. "Be careful," she urged her, tightening her arms around her mother.

Jocelyn squeezed her daughter once more before up righting herself and tearing herself away. She kept her eyes dried as Luke wrapped his arms around Clary and came to join her by her side.

"Magnus wants us in his apartment in fifteen minutes, we need to go. He won't be happy if we're late," Luke reminded them, his hand braced on Jocelyns back as they walked out of the room.

Maryse followed, her eyes wary as she hugged Isabella and then looked hard into Jace's eyes, "I know you want to go, but its better if you stay here," she wrapped her arms around him then, surprising him as she leaned into whisper into his ear, "look for Alec."

She pulled away, straightened her hair with a few fingers and walked out the door.

Jace watched her with an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. He pressed his lips together and then stalked past Isabella, not saying a word to anyone. Once he got out of the library he felt his head clear better. He felt it, about two days ago something went wrong and he knew there was something off wherever Alec was. He hadn't wanted to panic at first, wanted to chalk up Alec's disappearing to him being moody over his break up. He wasn't sure why.

If Jace ever went through something like that, he was determined to make sure everyone around him was as miserable as he was. It was only fair.

"Jace! Jace!" a soft, female voice shouted from behind him.

He turned and reached a hand out, already knowing it would be Clary. She collided into his side and he wrapped his arm tightly around her waist. Her hand slid into his back pocket, and they walked like that down the hallway, his eyes determined to only look forward.

After awhile Clary let out a harsh, irritable breath that caught him off guard, "So?" she inquired impatiently.

"So…what?" Jace asked, wondering if she was feeling alright.

"So what did Maryse tell you?" she asked, her viridian eyes watching him closely. She felt a tightness squeeze in her chest, concerned on what Maryse might have said or didn't say. She knew the woman would never intentionally hurt Jace…but the concern was there all the same. Intentionally didn't mean things didn't happen.

Jace relaxed, knowing the purpose of her inquiring. He shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal, "She told me to keep looking for Alec. I guess worrying is a girl thing."

"Hey! If I was missing for a week, you'd be worried," Clary pointed out, jabbing her finger into his rib.

"That's different," he paused, leaning down to kiss her swiftly and softly, when he pulled away his eyes melted into hers, "You are my life."

It always took her breath away when he reminded her of that little tiny fact, how much he loved her.

"I guess I'll keep you too," she mumbled under her breath, enjoying the sound of his laughter echo through the hall and how his body trembled next to hers. She grinned up at him, perched on her tiptoes to meet her lips against his. "So…no adults for a while," she grinned at him, running her fingers along his arm.

The heat flared in his chest, he controlled the heaven's fire as he locked his eyes down at her, caught by her beauty and the way her finger kept sliding up and down his bare arm. His skin shivered in pleasure, "I hope this isn't some elaborate set up you pulled off just to have some time alone with me, little desperate."

"Funny." She narrowed her eyes at him, "I was more or less thinking its too bad we're limited to kissing because of this heavenly fire deal," she starred up at him, hoping he understood exactly what she would have finally of finished if their wasn't this one little problem.

Jace groaned, "…maybe if I focus really hard on controlling it," he suggested dryly, running a hand through her hair. His eyes were hungry and he felt the muscles tightened in his belly. For a moment he imagined crashing her up against the wall, sliding his hand through her shirt, flicking the buttons open on her jeans…

"Do you think you can control it that well?" Clary asked, surprised he would consider it as she turned to stare at him.

Jace considered it for a moment, "Well…couldn't hurt to try."

"Actually it could," Clary pointed out in a scoff. Her fingers closed through his as they walked down the hall. She felt an urging frustration to scream with how prepared she was to rip his clothes off if it wasn't for this holy fire deal.

* * *

How many Magnus's could exist in a damn city? It wasn't exactly a common name. She wasn't even sure what origin that name was. It could be Greek for all she knew. It wasn't like she expected the telephone book to have over twelve Magnus's in it, she had expected one. And that was her problem, she couldn't find a single listing for this guy.

Dyana felt the overwhelming urge to smash her brains out on the desk, "He's not in here," she mumbled to her associate, gesturing to the book. There was a pot going on in the staff lobby on how long she kept up this obsession with finding a street kid. It would have been pretty funny if it wasn't at Dyana's expense.

Since it was, she was just over all pissed about it and avoiding the break room while eagerly anticipating the moment someone told her to lighten up and take it as a joke as it was meant. That way when she hit them and knocked out their front teeth she could say she had been antagonized first.

"Hold in there Dyana! You've barely used all your resources yet," Kimberly Jones smiled, her platinum blonde curls bouncy around her shoulders as she grinned, dimples bright and bold that caused jealous to flow swiftly through Dyana.

"...how many weeks did you put in for the pot?"

"Oh…Dyana I would never bet against a friend."

"HOW. MANY. WEEKS." Dyana snarled through gritted teeth.

"….Two," she whispered meekly, suddenly becoming fascinated with her paperwork.

Dyana sighed as she swiveled around. She shoved the book to the far end of her table and then decided Kim was right, she had yet to tap out all of her resources. She grabbed her coat and slung it over her shoulders,

"Where are you going?" Kim stuck her head up, big baby blues watching her friend with caution.

"Following a lead!" Dyana shouted as she headed out into the snow.

* * *

She jogged all the way to the institute rather than bother with using a taxi cab in this weather. The cold air formed into small puffs exhaled through her lips as she stretched her stiff muscles and worked her way to the familiar building she had left in a huff from only days ago.

There was a chance she wouldn't receive help, but perhaps they knew who Magnus was and could kindly point her in the right direction, and in return she would promise not to bother them again.

It was a good deal they would want, she could get pretty annoying after awhile.

The gate was cracked open as she walked through, slowing to a walk as she quickly headed up to the front door. She didn't even get a chance to pull her hand out of her pocket to knock when the wood frame shook and the door swung open.

Caleb stood there, dark hair hanging in his face as he glowered under it, "What do you want?" he asked in a cold, stiff tone.

"Magnus," she requested, slightly out of breath. Alright that was a lie, she was incredibly out of breath. She needed to start running again, cut out some carbs, "I need to find someone named Magnus."

"What do you need with a warlock?" Caleb asked, surprised she would even know his name.

Dyana's jaw fell open. _Holy shit, warlock? Oh crap. I just swore with the word holy in front of a Church. God I'm going to hell. Crap! I just said hell in front of a church. _"I just do," she rebuffed, trying to keep some mystery about her mission.

Caleb locked eyes on her, "Trust me, its better if you don't find him. Go back to your mundane life," he advised.

"I'll keep bothering you," the words came out in a mush, her eyes lit as if on fire, "Every day, I'll be here, knocking and kicking at the door until someone tells me where to find Magnus. Do that and I'll leave you alone."

He starred at her for a few minutes, thinking hard on it. "Alright fine. But if he turns you into a toad I'm not kissing you," he grabbed his black leather coat from the hallway and tossed it on, stepping out into the snow with her.

She gaped a little bit, wondering if there was a good chance of that happening. "What are you-" she trailed off, starring at him as he started to walk away.

He turned back, agitated, "Do you want to see Magnus or not? Keep up damn it."

Well, at least if he felt comfortable swearing out loud in front of Church she might not be getting a one way ticket to hell.

Dyana caught up quickly, falling into a rhythmic step next to him. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, he was, despite the behavior and attitude, at least incredibly attractive to stare at. He had one of those mouths that a woman knew, you would melt the moment he pressed them to hers. His hands where a marvel, large palms, quick fingers.

"What are you starring at?"

His annoyed tone jerked her attention up towards his face, those eyes completely captivating her. Mmm those eyes. "Nothing," she muttered, turning her attention forward and shoving her hands back into her coat.

They walked in mutual silence for three blocks before he stopped at a pair of stairs and a door, "I mean it, about the toad thing," he warned briefly.

Dyana rolled her eyes, more amused than threatened. "Please. I'd have to find a prince, not a dick." She left him gaping as she made the way to Magnus Bane's door. With a lot of courage, and a little hope – she knocked and waited for someone to answer. She had a faded image of what a warlock seemed to look like to her.

When Magnus answered the door, she wasn't prepared for the purple glitter materialized around his cat eyes, the blue sparkles tingling at his fingers, "Consultation hours are over," he instructed, about to slam the door in her face.

"Wait!" she grabbed the edge of the door before he could shut it on her face, and ignored the look of a stunned expression, "I'm here because of Alec."

She didn't know what Magnus was to Alec, but in that moment, with the look that came over his face – she knew. It was the same look she had held months after her fiancé had walked out the door on her. It was the look of a broken heart, and every woman new that look.

"Alec?" his voice struggled for a moment, he suddenly reached forward, his hand clamping on her wrist, "You've seen him?"

"Yes," the shaky breath came out as she watched him, "A week ago, he was injured. I took him to the hospital. He said Magnus before he went unconscious. I thought that was his name at first."

The breath was all but kicked out of Magnus as he starred at the strange girl. Alec was hurt? He was in a mundane hospital? They practiced barbarism there! "He's at the hospital?"

"Not anymore," Dyana winced at the dark look in his eyes, "It's a bit of a story…if you have time…"

"Of course, of course, come in," he rushed her in, and then hold the door open for the shadow hunter lingering, "Coming Caleb?" He asked, already knowing the man's name.

Caleb scowled as he walked forward, "Might as well, came all this way," he muttered under his breath, and stepped into the Warlock's lair.


	12. Chapter 12: Death

**Title**: The Mortal Instruments: City of Forsaken Hearts

**Chapter 12: Death **

**Authors Note**: Alright here's chapter twelve, hope you are enjoying the story thus far! Please review and let me know what you think, any type of feedback is extremely motivational and I love hearing from all of you! Plus I am juggling between Clace, Sizzy and Malec so if I get requests to put in more of one couple I can definitely do that. I'm not in any particular hurry to finish this, and I have a lot of chapters in front of me to write still.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of its characters. All respectful material belongs to Cassandra Clare – including the universe created for this story.

* * *

"You're a warlock?" she scoffed openly starring at the man – he didn't look like a warlock. He didn't look like he was any particular help at all. In fact all he had done since they got there was shove her down into a chair and offer her tea. What the hell, she didn't even drink tea. This was America, who the hell bothered with tea? She declined against the Earl Grey and waited impatiently, tapping her fingers against her leg as Magnus made himself busy in his kitchen.

What kind of warlock had to make his own tea anyways? Why couldn't he just snap his fingers and have it appear out of thin air? Her face must have given away some of her peevish thoughts, because Caleb was frowning at her from leaning up against the wall. He had all out refused to take a seat, preferring to be able to make a run for it if he needed to.

"If Magnus can't help, nobody can. I'd wipe that look off your face," he advised tartly in a hushed breath before Magnus came wandering back in. He couldn't say why he stayed, maybe it was curiosity. Maybe despite his cold and brutal exterior, he was worried about the oldest Lightwood that hadn't returned yet. A shiver ran up his spine. Maybe it was all happening _again. _

They hadn't stopped it back home. He didn't know why he thought he could stop it this time.

"What are you thinking about?" Dyana's dark irises flickered curiously as she watched him. His eyes had glazed over, and suddenly it was as if he wasn't there. She told herself it was natural to pry; she was a cop after all. When somebody seemed to suddenly go so deep within their thoughts, it was normal to ask where they went – even if it was none of her business.

His shoulders stiffened and he tensed at the question, "Nothing," he muttered under his breath, suddenly becoming vastly interested in his shoes. He wasn't going to tell her – some weird down worlder who thought she was a mundane. She seemed decent now, even kind worrying about some kid she barely knew. He knew how quickly that could change with the war brewing. It could be a matter days when all of that changed and he had to put a knife in her back.

He preferred not getting attached to people he might end up killing in the near future.

"…Right," Dyana glanced over to Magnus, who was whistling as he took the kettle off the stove top and poured the steaming water into a bright cerulean cup. She turned back to Caleb and studied him, something she found herself doing often. Maybe his attitude was crappy and he had a mean bark to him – that face was carved from angels.

Magnus whirled out his tea set on a bamboo tray, he seemed antsy as he set it down and picked up his cup, fingers tapping against the side of the rim – much like Dyana had been doing against her leg four minutes ago. He took a deep sip, and the heat seemed to uncurl the tightness in his stomach. "Tell me about Alec," his voice was softer as he said the shadow hunter's name. He felt the knot tighten back up in his gut. _He loved Magnus Bane. _The voice howled through his head, like an injured wolf.

"A week ago the police were called in a possible homicide," she settled her hands into her lap and kept her voice sounding authorities and official, like how she would sound if she released information to the press, "We found the body…I…saw it differently than what everyone else did." Her hands tightened and her shoulders went rigid as she trailed off, her flesh paled and her eyes glossed over them. A dark image played in her head. She still remembered the smell, the shock of seeing the entrails pulled out – the burned markings all across her face and bare arms. Dyana shivered.

Suddenly Caleb was next to her, sitting down on the couch. He was starring at her face, his own expression unreadable. It almost seemed like…he cared. "Keep going," he whispered.

It was a strange sense of comfort as Dyana wet her lips and turned back to Magnus, "I went into the old church, to look around for anyone else. That's when I saw him. His clothes were bloody, and he was injured and practically unconscious. I asked for his name when he was awake, all he said was Magnus and then we went out again. We got the EMT, brought him to the hospital in an ambulance."

Magnus flinched; it was barely noticeable when he heard Alec said his name. He felt a stone lodge into his throat – all of the times he had been there, waiting in the shadows for when Alec needed him, ready to come in and save the day, interfering in mortal affairs for his own amusement and then because he cared for Alec. All the times he kept them from dying and the one time he wasn't there – the moment he stopped watching over them…Alexander vanished.

"I stayed by his bed, waited until he woke up and was strong enough to talk," a ghost of a smile appeared on her face for a moment, "He wasn't cooperative, to say the least. He had a smart mouth on him, I went to get some shit coffee and left him to consider working with me…when I came back there was this thing looming over him. He called it a Forsaken." She shook her head, wishing she had coffee or something warm to hold now. Her eyes lingered on the tea.

No, she wasn't quite that desperate yet.

"I fired a round in his chest, and got Alec out of there. He told me everything and we agreed to keep in contact. I told him if I found a connection between all of the murders and disappearances I'd tell him," she glanced up at Magnus, "The last I saw him was five days ago, and he was heading back to the institute. I'm assuming he never made it home."

Magnus was silent. He set the cup down on the tray and casually dropped into the adjacent bright maroon plush chair. His fingers dug deep into his brisk Cimmerian hairline. "I can't find him," he admitted after awhile.

Caleb seemed to understand the gravity of this problem better than Dyana. He glanced up shocked, "You can find anyone."

"Except those who matter, apparently," Magnus retorted dryly, rolling his eyes, as he seemed to sink farther into the chair.

This was not the arrogant and proud warlock that Caleb had heard tales of, the warlock his father had warned him not to cross as a child with bedtime stories. Magnus Bane was a warlock of legend and myth, most didn't believe he existed. He could do great things when it was in his choosing to gift his presence to shadow hunters, which was rare. "Okay. So who can find him? We aren't giving up that easily."

"We?" Dyana starred at him, tone shocked. She hadn't meant to blurt out the word; she just hadn't been expecting Caleb to help. In fact the last person she had expected to help in the world was grouchy Caleb who made her think of Oscar from Sesame street – except more handsome.

He shrugged, "It's starting to become Clave business, since apparently the Clave has its own issues to deal with trying to sustain itself, you'll have to deal with me," he seemed unperturbed with the destiny of the Clave. It was the first sign of faith he showed. The Clave had always existed; a world didn't seem possible in Caleb's mind without the Clave. He refused to consider any possible other ending than a miscommunication and a lying stink breathing demon.

Magnus folded his hands together, his tone grave, "I so hate to be the bearer of bad news, good news is much more rewarding to give, but-," he sighed, his eyes flickering to the ceiling before back at Caleb, "Its more than the Clave that has fallen. It's the entire city."

Caleb hands went rigid as he starred at the warlock. His mind screamed lies, "What do you mean?" he demanded, his eyes beginning to widen. Magnus remained silent, and Caleb jumped up from the couch, the vein popping out from his forehead, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!"

His voice echoed through the room, a broken sound of a defeated man as his shoulders cave, and that bright hope extinguished from his eyes. He collapsed back onto the couch with the remorseful expression in Magnus's eyes and barely felt the warm human contact of Dyana cautiously reaching over and pulling him into a tight embrace.

* * *

"I thought they told you to stay put," Simon watched Clary pack a bag, dressed in shadow hunter gear as she rushed around her room, quickening her pace so she didn't hold back the rest of the group. He didn't like this at all. There was a reason why Jocelyn and Luke hadn't brought Clary and Jace and Isabelle with. They usually had pretty good reasons, better reasons than Clary. "C'mon. We can do a marathon of those bad movies you like, I'll make popcorn."

She grasped her bag and swung it around her shoulder, "I can't Simon! Isabelle and Jace have already gone, they went through the portal an hour ago before it vanished. Only reason I didn't follow was to tell you. I'm drawing a portal and that's that." She paused, "…we can do the marathon and popcorn tomorrow, right?"

Simon groaned, "I guess," he mumbled, the last time he had visited the privileged glass city it hadn't been very welcoming to his kind. "Hurry up and draw the thing, lets get this over with," he mumbled.

For once Clary agreed, and she quickly drew the symbol against her wall. The portal opened, shinning brightly as she took Simon's hand in hers. She hadn't wanted him to come along in case it was dangerous, but it hadn't felt right telling him to stay when he would only argue good reasons to go. In the end she didn't really want to travel alone anyways. Simon was her rock.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to this," he mumbled, sounding like realistic mundane Simon.

Clary turned her head and grinned at him, "Me neither, last year all we cared about was sneaking into Pandemonium now look at us."

They stepped into the portal together, and Simon instantly felt tugged and pinched and pulled a thousand miles an hour. His brain was pressured, his stomach looped together and everything blurred and moved so quickly around him. He felt as if he was flinging into space and suddenly the air was spitting him out. He landed face first into the grass, inhaling dust particles and mounds of dirt that sprayed into his gaping mouth.

Simon hastily spit out the dirt as he stood up, brushing off his sweater. "Traveling in that is worse than Eric's van over all those pot holes on Tenth Street, Clary…Clary?" he turned around, surprised she was ignoring him digging on Eric's van. For a moment he was surprised she was injured, that the portal had flung her into tree truck or a rock.

Clary was standing towards Alicante. The sky was painted red, smoke pilfered up from the proud city. The beautiful buildings of glass that the city was known for were shattered, and grey flags drenched in blood wiped high against the wall. Clary shot off on her feet, Simon calling after her as he kept up with her frantic and hurried pace.

The gate was smashed, and their were bodies pinned against the wall, spikes carved out of their skulls. Clary felt tears sting the corners of her eyes as she passed them, and entered not the beautiful city of glass – but the City of Dead.

"CLARY!" Simon roared as he rushed after her, nearly tripping over his own feet. He paused at the gates, grimacing at the guards with their skulls impaled. He walked cautiously through the gate, his eyes wide on the ransacked city. There were bodies left in the streets, blood ran down the sewers, painted the cobblestone a new color. The glittering runes of their angel language shimmered against their skin in mockery – a protection that didn't protect them.

Nobody was spared. There were more children and elderly than shadow hunters. In fact, as Simon walked through the street they all seemed to be children and retired shadow hunters, or women who had chosen a different path than fighting demons.

"Clary…" he whispered her name as he approached her.

She was standing next to a pile of smoked bodies, the flames charcoaling their flesh. A baby's hand was clutched in the embrace of a woman with a half ripped face. There were bloodied tears streaming down her cheek. Her clothes were in tatters, as the other victims were. This was senseless slaughter, men and women died with their hands covering their faces, without a shield to protect them selves.

Clary's voice was thick as she spoke, "Who would do this."

It was a rhetorical question – they both knew it was Sebastian.

Suddenly Clary let out a pitched sob, "Oh god! Simon! Mom! Luke! They came early what if…what if they came during this…massacre."

Simon winced, not knowing what to say as he approached her, "Jocelyn is fine, I bet they came after and are trying to track down who did this. Clary. Its going to be okay," he felt incredibly lame, being unable to give her such a pitiful amount of comfort. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she clung to his sweatshirt.

"Lets find Jace," he suggested, for once wishing the golden haired prima donna was around to pick up Clary's spirits. For once he wouldn't be annoyed to hear his over confident, arrogant comments on how silly Clary was being.

"They'll be where the Clave meets, they would have gone there," She agreed, and they slowly picked themselves up and walked forward – straight through the heart of the City of the Dead. The City of Sorrow. The City of Tears.

_City of Blood. _

Clary shivered. This was not the beautiful Alicante she dreamed about, and often drew pictures of. This was a city drenched in innocent blood.

The doors were bashed open, wood splintered apart as Clary stepped through and entered the dark chambers. There were some lights flickering ahead and she saw soon enough it was Jace and Isabelle with their witchlight.

"JACE!" Her voice saturated in relief as she ran down the corridor towards him. He opened his arms and caught her as she flung herself into his chest, her arms curled around his shoulders and she pressed her face up against his neck. His body was warm from the enchanted heavens fire, and helped to defeat the coldness left barren in her heart. His arms were stiff around her, and she could feel how tense his body was as she clung her arms around him. This was his home – shattered like the illusion of his childhood.

He ran a hand down her spine, the first sense of relief washed through him at seeing her. Since he had walked through the portal he had felt dazed and an uncontrollable rage swell within him. All of those bodies…all of those innocent people. His hands fisted together against Clary's back as he pressed his face into the top of her hair for a moment. He inhaled and forced himself to be calm. "I know," he stated simply, emotion clogging his voice.

Isabelle glanced over her shoulder at Simon. The sight of him standing there, just in hands reach relaxed her. "We should keep moving," she spoke up, not wanting to be around in case whatever had done this came back.

Well, she sort of wanted to be around to kick their ass and rip out their throat, but she had a feeling they wouldn't be back around. Her boots clicked in the empty hallway as she moved forward, grabbed Simon by the arm and hauled him back outside to where the sun somehow still managed to shine despite this tragedy.

Clary and Jace followed behind them as they stepped outside. Their world had been ripped apart. This was too much – far too much for teenagers to handle. There were dead to bury. There were far too many warriors missing, where were all the shadow hunters? The clave was missing – it hadn't just fallen, it was _gone! _

Isabelle glanced around, her eyes sharp as she spotted something dark moving along the side of one of the buildings sagging in roofs, smoke continued to puff out from the smoldering, burning insides of a ruined home. The dead were probably in there as well. "…Jace," she whispered, pointing up to where the dark figure dodged around a corner.

Jace let go of Clary's hand and he pulled out his stele, "I got it," he snarled and took off – quick as light. He was hard to keep up with visually as Clary did her best to watch how he bound from the earth to up to the roof. The jump should have been impossible, and for anyone but Jace it would have been.

He sprung around the corner and before the person was able to turn back, Jace sprung and caught him around the waist. For a moment he was sure it was Sebastian as they fell off the roof and smashed into the dirt. Jace clamped the boys fists behind his back, he bucked and wormed about, struggling to get free.

The sound of hurried footprints sounded as Isabelle and Clary and Simon came spurting around the corner. Isabelle let out a painful gasp as she fell to her knees, starring at the boy with his vibrant blue eyes.

"Alec?" She whispered, a tear suddenly falling off her cheek as he spit against the ground and muttered an unlawful curse. There were black marks around his eyes and crawling down his neck. He starred up at his sister with a snarl on his tongue.

"_Kill. Blood. Kill. Blood. Kill. KILL. KILL. " _

The sound that came out of him wasn't human, and it sent a shiver down all of their spines as Jace wrestled him close to the ground, he felt a pang in his heart – the sensation of losing his parabatai. Alec was here, but he wasn't _here. _

Jace swallowed thickly as he picked up his stele, and posed it above Alec's head, he felt his fingers begin to tremble as he tightened he grasp, "Sorry brother," he whispered in a tight voice.

* * *

**Hope you guys enjoyed! Please Review and let me know how you like the plot so far! : )**


	13. Chapter 13: Forgiveness

**Title**: The Mortal Instruments: City of Forsaken Hearts

**Chapter 13: Forgiveness **

**Authors Note**: Did I mention I am a huge fan of evil, horrible cliff hangers? No? I am. ; D Alright anyways YOU GUYS ARE SO AWESOME FOR ALL THE REVIEWS I GOT 333 I was so excited waking up to read them! I promise to be extremely witty and clever and over all adorable how I remind everyone to review at the bottom of the page from now on ; D _or you know, evil crazy ass alec may just haunt you forever… _

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of its characters. All respectful material belongs to Cassandra Clare – including the universe created for this story.

* * *

"JACE NO!" Isabelle lurched forward, and she grasped the hilt of the sword, fighting against Jace's grasp before he brought the silver edge biting down into Alec's flesh. The boy she knew as her only living brother struggled and continued to slur out words in his breath. He wriggled and thrashed under Jace's weight, condemning them all to death as he cried out for their blood and sweet misery. Isabelle cringed as she continued to grasp the sword, her eyes pleading at Jace, "Its Alec! We have to help him! HE IS MY BROTHER TOO YOU WILL NOT KILL HIM," she snapped at him, hysteria rising – a rarity in Isabelle who was usually calm and collected, who never revealed her emotions or showed herself needing anyone.

But she needed Alec, she needed her only brother – she couldn't lose him too, not after they had lost Max. She wouldn't look back at this moment, and wonder why she didn't step in. She would not spend the rest of her life trying to forget the moment she sacrificed her brother, caught in a memory she couldn't wake from. She wouldn't bring home another dead Lightwood to her family. Not ever again. Max had been her fault, Alec couldn't…he wouldn't…she struggled against Jace as her thoughts turned bitter and of the self-pitiful sort.

"HE'S GONE ISABELLE!" Jace hollered back, his throat sick as his shoulders caved forward, he loosened his grip from the sword and felt Isabelle yank it out and away from him. If he had been determined…she never would have gotten away with it. He didn't want to end Alec's life any more than Isabelle did. His parabatai, and his brother struggled under him, black blood oozed from the crevices of where his flesh was torn apart. There was little resembling the moody, and proud boy they had all known. His eyes weren't really blue anymore, they had been tinted red and Jace could swear he saw every dark inner demon in himself when he looked straight into them. The silver marks along his body were distorted, ripped apart by new, black marks carved into the flesh with a brute, solid object like a dagger or a knife. The blood was stained in his clothes; chains were still wrapped around his bloodied wrists. He was foaming at the mouth like a rabid animal. His hair was the same, though it was matted and greasy. His face seemed more hallow, the slant of his cheeks defining. When he spat out blood, he showed three cracked bloodied teeth. The hemoglobin, red and sticky, drooled down his chin.

Isabelle couldn't stand to stare at him any longer. She turned away and suddenly felt herself caught in Simon's arms. She hadn't realized she had been making a choking sound in her throat – her body refusing to sob when that was all she craved to do. Her arms locked tight around him and for once, she didn't feel the need to be strong on her own. She wanted Simon right there, and here he was. His smell reassured her, the soft calming scent of his laundry detergent. He didn't smell like most of the boys she dated – sweet and spicy with heavy cologne. She doubted Simon knew what cologne was.

He pressed a hand on the small of her back and felt her tremble. She had seemed so small and vulnerable all of a sudden, like a broken porcelain doll starring at the haunted remnant of her brother. He didn't know what possessed him to sweep forward and collect her into his arms – he had never been very good at realizing when Isabelle needed him and when she didn't. The fact she ever needed him was still confounding and new to him. He had imagined though, what he'd want if it had been Rebecca, his sister who was growling and bloodied, barely recognizable and a sight that churned even his stomach. He'd want to be held – and tightly by the one he loved.

"Shh. It's okay. We're going to take him to Magnus. He's going to fix this. He'll know what to do," Simon assured her, feeling her shudder in his arms again. He fixed his eyes over her shoulder, at the sight of Alec huffing and twitching as Jace yanked his arms up and behind him. Simon caught the nod to him and he pivoted around, draping an arm around Isabelle as they quickly shuffled forward. Clary was already in the process of drawing a new portal that would take them quickly to Magnus.

They couldn't exactly keep Alec on the streets for long – people were going to stare.

* * *

"MAGNUS. MAGNUS OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!" Jace pounded his fist up against the door as he ignored the sound of growling and an uneasy Simon as he tried to keep Alec from spinning around and ripping out his throat.

"SERIOUSLY MAGNUS HURRY!" Simon added, fearing for his undead life as he clamped a hand onto Alec. He wasn't as trained as Jace was when it came to apprehending hostages. His hands kept slipping in the blood, or he'd forget how strong Alec was despite his appearance and lighten his grasp. By all rights he shouldn't be standing, the amount of blood alone had his fangs protruding out, annoying him as he tried to ignore the hunger. It wasn't so tough – the black oozing substance from Alec didn't seem quite so appealing when he sniffed it. It smelled like tar and…sulfur.

"OPEN UP WARLOCK OR I SWEAR BY THE ANGEL I'LL-," Jace's shouting and slamming his foot into the door was interrupted as the front door suddenly swung open. Jace nearly snapped his leg into the Warlock's ankle as Magnus stood there, looking extremely perturbed.

"Do you realize it's two in the morning?" he started out, agitated by the appearance of this particular shadow hunter so early in the morning. He could barely handle them during daylight hours, "As I've already informed you I am not your pet warlock. I am not someone to snap your childish indulgent little fat fingers at and expect to come running," he snapped, his voice growing louder as his vision finally passed from Jace's impudent expression down the stairs to Isabelle, her arms crossed over her chest and her cheeks red. Her eyes were unusually emotional tonight – two opaque irises of crystal pools revealing a depth of terror and misery he saw straight through.

She seemed to shiver, recognizing that someone was able to peer to deep into her soul without effort.

His glaze glanced to Clary, unusually quiet with her red curls a little frayed, there was blood splattered on the front of her shirt. She looked more exhausted than miserable, but there was a grief that cut deep to her bone. He lifted is eyes –

And saw Alec Lightwood.

"I see," his voice tightened, "Get in," he stepped back, allowing them entrance into his apartment. He struggled for a millisecond as they entered – so quick no mortal would have seen how quick the aged, immortal warlock became broken down. _He Loved Magnus Bane! _Of course those words would whisper in his ear now. Of course he would feel a terror unlike he had felt in the past nine hundred years of his life. He had always known, Alec Lightwood was the destruction of him. He hadn't felt…that human side of him in hundreds of years.

Alec brought it out. Alec took those emotions – regret, passion, love, kindness, and reminded Magnus what it was to feel in a way he had stopped doing after his two hundredth birthday or so.

"You have to fix him," Isabelle turned to him, her chin jutted out. There wasn't a wobble in her voice, no tremble now. She didn't shudder or cave in. Isabelle was stronger than that, she had to for Alec. At least for now. "If you have any love left for my brother – _give him back to us!"_

Magnus lifted his eyes to Alec, struggling between Jace and Simon's grasp. "I'm not sure I…" his voice softened as he approached Alec. His hand shot out, to grab the boys chin as he looked into the ruby red eyes that glistened and glared back at him. Blood slid down his fingers as he kept a hold of Alec's face while he struggled and fought against them. "If we heal the marks cut into his skin, maybe, and that's a _huge maybe, _he will come back to us. In the mean time, I've only seen these types of marks on one other person," he paused, taking his hand back from Alec, feeling as if the tips of his fingers had been burned.

"That woman…" Clary stepped forward, her eyes wide as she suddenly remembered the mark that she kept seeing in her dreams, the one she painted over and over again. Sometimes it caused the paint to turn to blood, or she was already using blood to paint it. She always woke screaming, matted down in cold chills and sweat across her clammy forehead. "On her neck. The same mark I've dreamed…"

"You dreamed this?" Jace shot his head up; concern laced with anger darkened his eyes as he struggled to hold onto Alec.

Clary shrugged, "I thought it would pass. I guess its more important than I thought," stupid, she should have invested more interest in it.

"Yes, a very unusual mark. Although Dyana swears it's a tattoo. The things you mortal lie to yourselves, all in the belief ignorance is better than knowledge," he shook his head, "Luckily I am certain she is willing to help…your brother," he addressed Isabelle and Jace – as if saying the boys name would set him on fire, or cause him to suddenly splinter apart.

"We have to find her," Isabelle's demanded, her eyes going bright with a purpose, to do something instead of stand here and be useless!

"At two in the morning? I'm sure she won't appreciate it. It can wait until the morning. You can take Alec into my bedroom, bound him to the bed. I'll start the healing process while you all get some rest. There are bedrooms available, it seems I'll never get you out of my house I may start charging rent," he added dryly, vanishing into the back hall as he slipped into one of his closets to gather some supplies.

Jace and Simon brought Alec thrashing into the back of Magnus's room. They worked to roll him onto the bed while he tried to cut his fingers into their flesh, constantly screeching and hissing about blood.

"You know," Simon huffed, struggling with getting his one foot tied down as he tried to kick him in the head, "This may be an improvement from his attitude before."

For a moment, a flicker of amusement crossed Jace's eyes, "Face improvement too…"

"OH. MY. GOD. ARE YOU TWO SERIOUSLY BONDING OVER THIS!?" Isabelle screeched from the doorway. She stormed in and grasped Simon by the shirt, yanking him to the side. "C'mon vampire boy, we're going to bed."

"Oh – O-Okay," Simon stuttered, grinning foolishly as he followed behind her, practically tripping on his own feet.

"I swear Alec," he huffed, grabbing his arm and pulling it back behind his head, tying it to Magnus's bed post, "If I'm stuck with only Simon to have male bonding time with, I will kill you myself."

"Lovely sentiments to share," Magnus thundered behind him, walking in with arms full of ingredients Jace would rather not know the contents of. He was pretty sure something was moving in one of the jars he held.

"Just giving him a pep talk," Jace cheered as he stepped back, admiring his work as Alec twitched and tested the bindings.

"Hmm, it seems almost like Deja Vu." Magnus mused behind him.

"If you tie this into your sex life Magnus I swear by the angel-"

Magnus laughed, setting the contents down, "I was thinking of the first time you called me to heal him, from the greater demon you all fought but now that you mention it this is quite…familiar in other aspects."

Jace groaned as he quickly fled out of the room, snarling under his breath as he slammed the door shut tight behind him.

Magnus's fingers sparkled as he walked over, and slowly applied his magic to the cut, it seeped into the black oozing flesh and little by little, he watched as it ran red once more, his skin turning a lighter, healthier human color. He grabbed a chair and scooted it up next to Alec's body, the boy was breathing hard and twisting against the healing magic Magnus used on his body.

Of course with any healing, there was always pain. "I am so sorry Alexander," Magnus apologized softly, his eyes swept over the boys face. He thought, just maybe those eyes seemed a little bluer, a little less red.

Then again, it could just be wishful thinking.

_He loved Magnus Bane. _

"As I love you, Alec," he mumbled, and vowed to do all he could within his power to heal him – to set things right as he should have long ago. And to perhaps allow another human emotion into his heart.

Forgiveness.

* * *

"Simon, hurry up," Isabelle huffed by the door as Simon awkwardly tried to walk while putting on his sweatshirt and keep the bottle of blood between his teeth. He had been woken early, kicked by Isabelle to get up and out of bed so they could hunt down Dyana and drag her back to Magnus.

"Don't you want to check on Alec?" He asked slowly, eyeing Isabelle carefully. She was in one of her moods – this one he classified as 'scary' mood which meant anything could happen. One minute she would kiss him, the next she would hit him and since he was a vampire she didn't feel obligated to hold back.

"I would," her teeth gashed together and suddenly all of her frustrations came unleashing onto Simon, "But that _stubborn warlock _won't open the _fucking door, _and its locked by his _stupid, annoying sparkling magic! _So I can't see him!" she scowled, pouting as she went and slammed the door open, "So this is the next best thing I can do."

"Okay," Simon bobbed his head in response, and caught the door before it smashed against its frame on their way out. He followed Isabelle silently, keeping up with her quick pace – which human Simon would have failed at. Human Simon wouldn't have been able to keep up with Isabelle in any way.

"Isabelle…" he cleared his throat, his hands shoved into his pockets as he approached her side, "I know you didn't want to talk last night," not that he had minded at the time. She had crushed her lips to his, wrapped her legs around his body and then Simon's brain had all but clicked off. The feel of her warm skin vulnerable and naked against his had set him over the edge and he had forgotten all about how sex might have been a handy distraction for her instead of talking about Alec.

"And I still don't," she warned, her tone held a bite to it.

And whoever said her bark's worse than her bite had never met Isabelle. He knew both to be fairly terrifying. "I know, but when you do…well…" he shrugged, struggling for words as he looked at her. What could he even offer her? Why would she bother wanting to talk to him about anything? He huffed, because this was always so confusing to him, why Isabelle wanted him in the first place. "Well, when and if you do, I'm here. Okay?"

Isabelle went silent for a moment, shifting and considering his words. She glanced up and nodded, "Okay," she agreed, "Now can we walk faster?"

Simon groaned, and quickly adjusted his speed as they made it quick, cutting across town to the small little apartment that Dyana rented.

"Maybe we should ring the doorbell," Simon suggested as Isabelle walked straight up to the door. She sent him a seething 'quiet' look and he fell silent while she unlocked the door and walked in. It felt like trespassing.

Alright, it felt like that because it was. He could now add that on his growing criminal record since Clary had decided to follow some blue haired freak into a closet – all because she had been attracted to a demon.

And yes, he reminded her of that, frequently. What best friend wouldn't?

"Izzy!" he hissed to her as he followed her in. The apartment was…bare. Boxes were stacked up everywhere; she had barely unpacked except for partial items needed for basic living needs. The most impressive thing in the room was a large white dry erase board with pictures taped up and strings tying them all together.

"Dyana!" Isabelle shouted her name, and knocked her elbow into the bedroom door.

It slammed open as Dyana came out of the bathroom, steam unfurling around her. She stood naked, except for the towel wrapped snuggly around her chest that ran down and grazed mid-thigh. She had a nasty scar that ran the length of her calf up past the towel line. Simon had a hard time not starring at it.

"Uhm…I have a doorbell," she mentioned, wrapping her arms around her chest as he bit her lip.

"By the angel you are rude," A groggy Caleb snarled, the sheets were tangled around his waist, his bare chest gleamed in the light, silver scars of his runes, and permanent dark ones ran down his bare arms and shoulders as he glanced up at Isabelle and Simon.

Simon groaned loudly from the doorway, "This is why you use the doorbell Izzy!"

"Agree," Dyana muttered, scowling as she padded barefoot from the bathroom, "I really hope you have a damn good reason for breaking into my apartment," there went fucking morning sex.

Not the best way to start off on her morning, and it had been a hell of a night when Caleb had unexpectedly agreed to come back to her apartment and check out her research and findings with the missing persons and homicidal cases.

One thing had led to another and apparently it ended up with them tangled in the sheets, _having mind blowing amazing good sex that now sets an impossible bar for every other normal guy out there. _

"It is," Isabelle snapped, "We found Alec! And Magnus needs to see that mark on your neck! So put on some damn clothes."

"Jesus, why didn't you say so," Dyana hurried to her closet, snapping on the light, her eyes lingered back to the two kids, "Mind waiting out in the living room?"

"Uh. Right. C"mon Izzy," Simon muttered, awkwardly tugging Isabelle back and closing the door behind her.

* * *

**Hope you guys enjoy and review! Maybe then Izzy will stop cockblocking one of these days...**


	14. Chapter 14: Worry

**Title**: The Mortal Instruments: City of Forsaken Hearts

**Chapter 14: Worry**

**Authors Note**: I love you all and your fabulous reviewing and follows. With all this love you guys keep giving me I may never end this story (it's going to feel like a never-ending story anyways. I went off my outline and now who knows when it ends, oops… ). Anyways. LOVELY READERS YOU ARE ALL FLAWLESS THANKS FOR THE FEEDBACK! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of its characters. All respectful material belongs to Cassandra Clare – including the universe created for this story.

* * *

Alec didn't wake up that day.

Or the next day…or the day after that one for matter of fact. And all the while Magnus sat, quiet and absorbed in the magnetizing draw the injured, unconscious shadow hunter held over him. He could remember all the nights he had warmed these sheets with Alec right there, always faintly amused if he complained about his hair being messed up or when Chairman Meow was watching them and Alec would suddenly refuse to do _anything _until Magnus kicked his feline out.

He remembered lazy, raining long mornings where tear drops from the sky pelted against the windows, and he would bury his face into Alec's warm shoulder, his arm wrapped around his chest with Alec's leg tossed over his. They would be tangled up in each other.

Magnus hadn't realized how lonely and the deep ache that loneliness felt until now – with Alec's body there reminding him, but his conscious somewhere else. "You should be waking up," Magnus muttered, not understanding. He had healed the marks tormented into Alec – the burns and mutilated flesh that had been sheared with the sharp edge of a knife. His hands curled into fists at his side.

Whoever was responsible…well…they would die. There was no other option for Magnus. He would strangle the life out of them for this, and for reminding him again how lonely he was – how being alone became a heavy weight that pulled and strained on you. He was drained.

An immortal being such as himself…learned how to be alone and consider the silence, and the independence rewarding. He always thought he was a creature bred to enjoy solitary.

Really all this time, all of these years…he had been waiting for his true half.

And now there was nothing the great warlock, Magnas Bane, could do to cause Alec to wake up. His sudden uselessness frustrated him to the point that little blue sparks were randomly coming off his fingertips. He could do _anything. _There wasn't another warlock on the planet like him. He was powerful, and strong. He was _not _going to sit here and accept that Alec was possibly gone or would never wake up.

"You are going to wake up," Magnus bristled, he stood from the chair, his legs felt sore and cramped. He had been sitting there, motionless for too long. "And when you do, I promise we will talk," he leaned down, his soft warm lips contacted with Alec's cold ones. He waited, almost expecting Alec to wake up, like one of those mundane fairy tales of Sleeping Beauty. Of course his stubborn shadow hunter didn't. Magnus sighed as he pulled away, his hand squeezed Alec's once more before he turned and left the room.

There were preparations to be done.

* * *

"How long is this going to take? I hate standing here!" Isabelle snipped, she was boiling something over the stove in Magnus's kitchen – which was never a good sign as the steam poured over the stove and an unusual odor filled the room. It smelled like burnt rubber and pesticide, but nobody was too eager to tell Isabelle that. They all just sat, exhausted in the living room while waiting for someone to come out with a bright idea.

So far, nobody had a clue what any of the symbols on Alec or Dyana meant. Nobody knew how they were supposed to find out or who to ask, and nobody knew how to wake Alec up. There had been suggestions to go to the bone city, but of course when Jace had promptly departed, he had arrived with the cold, burdening news that the city was empty.

Much as the rest of their population seemed to have gone into hiding.

Nobody touched much on the massacre, or the sudden disappearance of Jocelyn, Luke and Maryse along with many other shadow hunters. Caleb had reported Taran and Cyrena were also gone, and it had left them all with a clammy, cold fear that grew with each passing moment nothing was done.

This wasn't like finding the mortal cup, or even walking into a hotel full of vampires. Clary knew this time…this was something beyond her ability. This time she wasn't saving Jace. She wasn't running into danger with only him on her mind. This was their entire city, tainted with the sins of genocide. The blood still sparkled in the streets, bodies decayed under the flickering heavy sun.

No rune was going to help her, and that was all she really felt she did. Her angel powers weren't kicking in and helping her much this time. She had tried to visualize, squeezing her eyes closed with her hand clutching a pencil, but nothing would ever happen. If she thought about it too much she'd suddenly become panicked, and she would obsess over dark thoughts. She didn't have Luke or her Mother. Jace and Alec and Isabelle were worried about their parents. The bone city couldn't help. They had no mentor as they had had last time.

They were on their own – shockingly, and terrifyingly on their own. What if they couldn't do anything? She kept her head down, her lips sealed shut. These were forbidden thoughts to say out loud. The first time she had expressed her worry, Jace had become defensive to a hostile, shouting point. He wouldn't hear anything short of waking Alec and finding the demons responsible and slaying them, all while possibly saving their family.

In other words, they needed a miracle.

Magnus strolled out to their down faces. Simon was hanging upside down off the couch, glancing at the ceiling. Isabelle was cooking something foul in his kitchen. Jace was pacing by the window. Clary continued to stare across the wall, her eyes dazed and lost. Dyana was nearby, playing a game on her cell phone, which sad to say was the most productive activity of all of them. He didn't know where Caleb was, and he didn't really care.

"Alec should be awake," his eyes were hard as he spoke, the lines of his face aged him, "I believe he might be cursed."

Jace spun around, his eyes molten and alive, "Then wake him up! You're a warlock!"

"Would if I could, curses aren't my specialty," he swallowed his own thick pride in order to admit that, his eyes flickering towards their desperate and hollowed faces. All of the fear had accumulated into shadows and bags under their eyes, red rimmed irises. Dear god is that what he looked like? Magnus shuddered.

Dyana poked her head up from angry birds, "Alright so who is an expert?"

"A fair question," Magnus, rolled his shoulders, his voice took on a new gravity of seriousness, "I need you all to consider something before I ask you to do this. Exactly how far are you willing to go in order to save Alec's life?"

Jace stopped his pacing, he stared at the warlock and considered sticking a knife through his heart. It probably wouldn't kill him, but it would be satisfying. "Tell us warlock before I stick my stele in your cold black un-beating dead heart," Jace warned, flipping his stele out.

"No need to become so rude in my house, boy," Magnus snapped, his eyes glittered fiercely, "There are some places not even the Clave knows of, and they are dark and full of perils."

"This is New York every street is full of peril," Dyana muttered dryly under her breath, "Try hailing a cab at Christmas."

"The Clave knows everything," Jace argued, his chin sticking out as he continued to play with the dagger, he wanted very much to use it, right then and there and plant it through Magnus's face if he didn't get to the point of their destination already.

Magnus shrugged, if they wanted to so willingly risk their lives, then fine. "You have your city shadow hunter," his eyes glistened, they flickered, changing colors it seemed from gold to ruby, "and we down worlders have ours. Decarthe is not a welcoming place for little Nephilim such as yourselves."

There wasn't a single book or instruction Jace or Isabelle could recall where a city named Decarthe had been mentioned. They remained quiet with their eyes large on Magnus. Only the Nephilim had their city and of course the demons went to whatever strange home planet they were sent back to. No one had ever worried about where the down worlders went. The faeries had their own world under ground. The vampires stayed in covens, the werewolves in their packs. Elves moved about the forests and warlocks and witches migrated or assimilated into the human world.

Never, had a dark city ever been mentioned.

"Decarthe has been under your nose, this entire time. Its door is located near here, a frequent establishment that attracts quite a bit of demon and down worlder activity. I wonder if you can guess where."

Jace suggested a few places, growing more and more frustrated when Magnus told him to think harder. Simon suggested a vegan store on the corner of South street. Isabelle grunted and continued to murder something in the kitchen.

"Pandemonium," Clary spoke up from the couch, her eyes glued on Magnus, "Its in the club, Pandemonium," and before her eyes she could practically see it. Her fingers itched to paint the darkness, the oozing smoke that wisped around the corners, the tall buildings made of smooth black marble. The streets that were stained with a glittering red. All over a pale, yellow moon.

Magnus nodded, "I suggest you all put on your clubbing clothes, and prepare yourselves," his voice warned as he stepped away, "The children of dark ones don't appreciate sharing their city with the Nephilim."

* * *

"Jace get over it. I'm coming with," Clary sighed, exhausted with the battle as she prepared herself by sliding on the shadow hunter gear. She was not amused when Jace tried to grab her stele before she could. If he hadn't attempted it half way across the room he would have succeeded. She promptly shoved it away before he could make a grab for it again.

"This is going to be too dangerous! Clary! Just stay here!" he tried a different tactic, turning his liquid fire eyes on her, "Please. I can't lose you."

Clary smiled, she walked up and patted his cheek, "You won't. I'm still coming," someone had to be able to draw a new rune when they ended up in trouble and needed to be saved.

Jace squeezed his hand over her wrist, his eyes transfixed. "I've never heard of this place Clary. This isn't like walking into that hotel to save Simon, or following me and hoping to save me from Sebastian. This is none of those things. We may very well all die." His throat caught on the words, and Jace knew them to be true.

"Then I want to be there with you," Clary squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, "I know the risk Jace, I like it less than you do. Alec needs this, and my mom," she stressed her mom's name, hoping he would realize how important this was to her, "she's missing again and so is Luke and Maryse, if there's even a chance we could find something out here, we have to take it. And I need to be apart of it now, Jace. I'm a shadow hunter. And you told me once this is what Shadow Hunters do, we're going to do it together and because we're together, I believe everything is going to be okay."

He starred at her, surprised and touched and back to being surprised all at once. "You always do say the perfect thing," he murmured, and leaned down to press his lips against hers. They were warm and welcoming, and well received as Clary deepened the kiss. Jace's arms came tightly around her and she clung to the back of his shirt. He deepened the kiss and she angled her lips, his tongue met hers and she moaned as he captured her mouth hard against his own. She clung on, her hands trembled, and every sensitive nerve was about to catch fire. And then it always happened.

A nasty, burning shock suddenly ran through her, and the heavenly fire flared up in Jace. He swore as he pulled away, looking disgusted with himself, "Clary I'm sorry!" he snarled in frustration.

She tried not to look too disappointed, "Its probably good for your ego," she remarked, smiling a little, doing her best to take that look of self-loathing on his face. He was about to find a way to punish himself for it, she could always tell.

Jace raised an eyebrow at that, "How is not kissing you good for my ego?"

"Well, if you keep shocking me like that, I'll stop going to putty in your hands."

Jace snickered, "If there's one thing I'm not worried about, its you losing control every time I kiss you. I am an excellent kisser, your reaction to that is never going to change."

Clary snorted despite what he was saying being fairly true, "Just hand me my dagger."

"Not until you admit it," he smirked.

Clary starred at him, her eyes narrowing, "Admit what?"

"How you completely swoon around me."

She starred at him, holding her dagger as a hostage just so he could get his ego fluffed, "Never mind. I'll go and get one from the training room."

Jace flipped the handle over, allowing Clary to grab it and shove it into her boot. She watched him move out of the corner of her eye for a moment. She could remember way back, when her mom had warned her about boys and falling in love too early. She also remembered her mother worrying she'd spend all of her training time oogling him. Silently, she appreciated oogling him now as he stripped off his shirt to change. His muscles gleamed, the fire in his veins made him seem as if there was a natural warm, effulgent glow about him.

"Like what you see?"

Her cheeks flushed as she realized he had been watching her through the mirror, and how her eyes continued to linger against him. "I was just –," she couldn't think of a damn thing.

He smirked, stalking closer to her. She leaned back against the wall and he placed his hands on either side of her head. He leaned in, and ever so carefully nipped against her bottom cheek, pulling away before he burned her. His bare chest wasn't quite touching her, but if she moved a quarter inch forward, she would have felt every line of his muscle against her body. As it was the warmth radiating off of him had her heart hammering inside her chest. She bit her lip as he smirked down at her.

"Admiring my fabulous body?" he finished for her with a cocky eyebrow raise.

"You know, considering we might all die in a few hours I figured it could be my last chance."

His eyes darkened at that response, "I'm not going to let you die," he kissed her nosily once, and then moved away to wrestle up a clean black shirt, and find his hunting jacket. He hid the runes as well as he could with his clothes – but the chances of them getting through this new city without being detected….

"They're probably all waiting for us downstairs," it had been decided that they would all leave from here. Magnus and Simon would meet up at the Pandemonium club tonight.

Only the fates would know what would be in store for them after that.

* * *

**Hope this was an interesting story turn for you guys and remember to review! You're all awesome 3 **


	15. Chapter 15: Shock

**Title**: The Mortal Instruments: City of Forsaken Hearts

**Chapter 15: Shock**

**Authors Note**: Hey guys thanks so much for all of the reviews and encouragement to keep reviewing 3 I am so glad you are all enjoying it! The chapters are going to be a little spread out right now because of the holidays. I am on vacation with my family which limits the amount of time I have to write (not to mention they drain me of all my energy lol). But I'll keep posting whenever I can and until then, happy holidays everyone and sorry about the slight delay in this chapter! On a side note i'm also trying very hard to introduce Maia and Jordan into the story, I just need a nice solid plot purpose for them.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of its characters. All respectful material belongs to Cassandra Clare – including the universe created for this story.

* * *

There were bad ideas to laugh at and be reminisced about later in a persons life, and then there are those few suicidal, 'what the hell were you thinking' bad choices that end up costing a person for the rest of their lives, a day they question and obsess about, playing the moment again and again in their heads on rewind, wondering what if they had made a different call. Jace couldn't be exactly sure, but he had a reason this was one of those decisions.

He didn't _want _Clary in the capitol city of demonville. He didn't want her a hundred leagues from the place – but this was Clary. The short little mean tempered red headed viper who never did as she was told, who never stayed put, who would only find a way in herself and make it ten times more dangerous than at least if she was with him and he could protect her.

Jace would slay a thousand demons for Clary, he would fight until blood blinded his eyesight and his muscles were too sore to lift his sword. The golden eyed boy would do everything in his power to keep her safe, because he couldn't imagine life without her.

The odd little texts during the day, geek references he didn't understand, how someone who grew up as a mundane could be so strong. He had been told love made you weak. Love made you vulnerable, and easily broken.

But it made Clary _invincible. _

He envied her slightly as she toppled over trying to grasp onto a rather large medieval axe Magnus had handed her to see how she carried it. To go your entire life realizing love made you stronger and not weaker – he couldn't imagine it.

"You're going to hurt yourself," Jace warned with his tone leveled out. He winced as she dropped it and it nearly sliced open her foot, "Told you so."

Clary spun around, cheeks red, "Really? Told you so?" she raised an eyebrow at him as she turned back to Magnus, "I think I'll stay with my Seraph Blade."

"A wise choice," Magnus smirked, his eyes dampened as he looked towards their small gathering, prepared to go into the city. He wondered if all of this, if any of it at all, would save Alec. Or perhaps his blue-eyed shadow hunter had already felt the cold steel kiss of death, and his foolish immortal self was once again discounting the power of mortality.

Magnus stretched up, unlike the Nephelim in their dark clothes, and Shelby in his red sweater – he wore tight denim jeans, the sparkles over powering. The purple button up shirt was made of sheer, and black leather brackets wrapped thickly around his wrists. His hair was all spiked up, and eyes smudged with the shimmery liner. He kicked his thick soled boots up from the cabinet and felt his fingers warm with the touch of magic.

His apartment melted away, the colors blurring together until they were standing outside the neon-lit Pandemonium Club. This had been where it had all started.

Clary could still remember how her eyes had lingered on the blue haired boy, so drawn to the magnetism of the skin shifting demon and the instant disappointment when he had accompanied Isabelle to the closet. She could still remember thinking, _of course, of course he would want someone beautiful like her, that classic gorgeous that I'm not. _

Of course at the time she hadn't expected Isabelle to be waiting with a whip in her hand, ready to murder the blue haired boy. She had a strange sense of fondness for the Pandemonium Club. This was where it had all started – her true life.

Magnus rolled past the bouncer, of course someone like him wouldn't need to give their name or expect to follow in line. With how much they called on Magnus for free help, she forgot at times how widely popular and famous he was in the down worlder population.

"They're with me," Magnus waved a hand, seeming disappointed at the motely crew while he shifted in his black leather boots, the tight skin jeans sparkled and left a dusty, glittering trail in Magnus's wake. "I know not very pretty to look at, but obedient servants are _so _hard to find these days."

"Excuse me?" Jace interrupted, "I am _gorgeous _to look at," he argued as he passed through, muttering between clenched teeth about sparkling idiotic warlocks being good for nothing blind idiots.

"And I have extremely good fashionable taste," Isabelle muttered under her breath, kicking a rock as she passed through and into the lime light of the club.

Clary stiffened her back, and suddenly she felt Simon's hand through hers. He smiled down reassuringly at her. "Just like old times, right?" he beamed as she bobbed her head in agreement, even though they knew it wasn't – and never would be. Simon would never be human again, and Clary would never be a Mundie.

Their blood had changed them, and it was every day Clary worried in some way or another that it would change their friendship. So far though Simon had been her rock, taking everything in stride, refusing to bend or yield. She wasn't sure what she had done to have such a good friend, she only knew she couldn't lose him.

"C'mon Fray before Sparkles in there gets bored and starts making a scene."

"Its probably too late for that," Clary pointed out as she bumped her shoulder against Simon while entering through the door. The blinding lights hit her, and music pounded through her ears, flowing through her veins and increasing the endorphins. She felt beautifully alive, fighting through the crowd to join their group who were waiting impatiently by a tinted silvery door.

Isabelle was kicking her boot against the wall, Jace was inspecting his fingernails, using his stele like a tooth pick while Magnus continued to look around bored and as if he was far above all of this.

"By the angel, what took you so long?" Jace grumbled, his eyes flinted heavy and dark, "We're here to rescue Alec, not teach the vampire here how to properly socialize at a club – now that is truly a lost hope."

"Leave him alone Jace," Clary's eyes went cross, surprising him as she pointed her finger against his chest and shoved him back a step, "Just because you're worried about Alec doesn't give you the right to treat Simon badly. Apologize."

"W-What?" it was perhaps, the first time any of them had ever heard Jace stutter. He looked absolutely horrified, his face twisting as if he had taken something sour.

"We don't have time for this! Magnus tell her we don't have time for this," he rebuttled with instead.

Magnus glanced around the room, seeming bored, "Oh, I don't know I think we have a little time."

"Apologize Lightwood or-,"

At this Jace grinned, "Or you'll what?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, "and please, go into detail, feel free to be-,"

"Don't say kinky or dirty or anything else that might be on your mind," Clary grumbled, backing down.

"I was going to stay stern but kinky or dirty is much better."

"UGH," Simon grumbled, hiding his face into his shoulder, "I don't need an apology, I just need this conversation to stop. Lets go!"

Jace smirked with triumph as he looked to Magnus, "After you then, Bane."

Magnus strolled forward, he raised his hand up and the shadow hunter party plus one vampire watched in curiosity as he swept a sharp finger nail across his palm. The blood was bright and warm and red as it dripped down to his wrist. He pressed it firmly against the stone outline of the door. The metal seemed to shiver, and a gasp was heard as air hissed through the creases of the wood. The door trembled and popped back, and slid over, revealing a dark tunnel that seemed to go on for eons.

"Welcome," Magnus's voice thickened darkly, "To the Downworld City. Decarthe is our best kept secret from the likes of the Nephilim. To do what I am doing now," he paused, and let the thought drop at that.

It was perhaps; the first time Clary had ever witnessed something remarkably close to fear pass through Magnus's eyes.

"We just want to do what we can for Alec. That's it. We're in and we are out, right?" she turned, hopeful in the eyes of the shadow hunters such as Isabelle and Jace and Caleb who may feel more duty bound to report this to the clave.

Caleb's midnight blue eyes darkened, "Right now we are in and out but later we will have to tell the Clave," he warned with his voice thick, "And of course Magnus will be protected."

"Ah, first rate protection I am sure," Magnus scoffed, his lips twitched in amusement, "No offence young shadow hunter, but I highly doubt the clave will be enough force to save me from an entire nation of down worlder and demons if I am caught revealing Decarthe to you."

_He must really love Alec. _Clary almost said it out loud, but it was such a private matter, she kept her lips closed.

"Well lets get going then," Jace started to surge through. His foot his the dirt path, the neon lights bounced off his dark jacket when someone screamed from behind him.

Caleb whipped around and swore, "Forsaken!" He cursed, spitting on the ground as he grabbed his Sereph blade and wielded it. Dyana yanked out her gun, feeling extremely inadequate next to him.

"GO!" She turned around, her eyes burning, "We'll keep them back! You need to go! Now! Clary you have a sketch of my rune – use that!" She aimed her gun, shot off a round towards an ugly, thundering Forsaken that was scuttling closer to her. His teeth were oddly sharp and pointed from his mouth, skin paler than the other forsaken. Vampire.

Could a forsaken be a vampire?

Dyana didn't have a chance to ask, she barely dodged around a screaming teenager, his orange hair slapped her in the face as he raced past her, shoving his elbow into her side while trying to escape.

She could hear Simon yell for Clary, frantically trying to grab the carrot top shadow hunter and drag her into the sealable tunnel.

"CLARY WE NEED TO GO!" he grabbed the back of her shirt and dragged her into the tunnel. Magnus sealed the door quickly. If she pressed her ear to the back of the stone, she knew she would still hear the screams electrifying the pandemonium club.

* * *

Magnus's fingers twinkled blue lights, and soon he had some soft periwinkle orb glowing over their head, lighting the stone path. Dust settled on the walls, there were little glistening bones and debris left against the side. At times Magnus would kick something out of his way, and Clary would see the smooth texture of a gleaming skull flash by before it vanished into the dark.

They traveled deeper and deeper, the air became stagnate and cold. Clary shuddered, arms tight against her lithe frame as the cold air kissed her cheeks. She could remember the last time she had been this cold, an argument against her mother about wearing her coat outside. She had thought she had been making a statement, dashing out without the button down wool. Hours later she had returned, miserable and sick, with her mother's dreaded expression of 'I told you so' on the tip of her tongue.

Thoughts of Jocelyn brought a lump of emotion choking Clary as she walked. She could be anywhere, dead or alive. Clary shivered again, this time Jace took notice and walked over to her, pulling out his jacket and draping it over her shoulders.

"Thanks," she pressed her face against the thick leather shoulder; it smelled like Jace and relaxed her.

Jace pressed his arm around her shoulder as they walked; his eyes were hard on the outline of Magnus's back. "How much farther is it? And what the hell do we do when we get there?"

Magnus didn't look back as he responded, his voice boomed off the walls instead, "Its not far shadow hunter, never fear. You'll be in the demon's den soon enough. A word of the wise, try not to stick your blade through anyone and draw attention."

"Easier said than done," Simon muttered under his breath. "Hey how come if I'm a downworlder I haven't heard of this place?"

Magnus laughed at that, "Because daylighter, your reputation is of a shadow hunters pet. Nobody is going to trust you with our precious city."

That shut Simon up, his lips twitching as he muttered something about not being anyone's pet. From then on out, they walked in silence.

Clary leaned into Jace's side, peering above Magnus's shoulder. Her feet ached, and she felt light headed in the dark. She could see the outline of where the tunnel stopped, something glistened far up ahead that she stretched her neck to see. Her breath stilled as Magnus suddenly paused, he turned around and the outline of him was seen in the cut out of a doorway.

"This is the passage into Decarthe. Talk to no one. Reveal your marks to no one. If we are to get in and get out alive, we must do so without drawing attention."

"Which will be a challenge for me," Jace interrupted, rolling his shoulders, "Considering how good looking I am."

Magnus's temper brewed. "Alec's life depends on this, I shouldn't have to tell you that."

Words rarely quieted Jace down. Temper thrashed in his eyes as he stiffly nodded, "I know that. He's my parabati, and my brother who I would never cast out," the words were tainted and meant to poison with their sharp edge.

If they affected Magnus, he did not flinch. Perhaps eight hundred years of practice at remaining stoic and hidden with his emotions had done some good. He merely tipped his head and nodded, "We are here for one thing, and one thing only, the red book."

"Never heard of it," Jace seemed disappointed in being told they were searching for a dusty old book, "How on earth is that supposed to help Alec?"

Magnus sighed in frustration, "Now is not the time for me to better educate you. This is what we need; this is what we will get. I can tell you what it is for later, now file behind me and stay quiet!"

* * *

Blood sprayed over Dyana, her delicate nose wrinkled as she slapped her elbow into the Forsaken's head and felt the brain matter coat her flesh. Disgusted, her stomach rolled as she looked up for Caleb.

He looked better off than she did; his clothes weren't completely ruined, saturated in blood or ripped to shreds. His arm from the elbow down was painted red though. She wondered if it bothered him that his hands would never come clean.

Caleb glanced up at her; a passing of amusement went through his eyes, "Sexy."

"Shut up," her lips twitched into a smirk as she tried to stay irritated at him. He cast those blue midnight eyes at her and all hope was lost.

The pandemonium club had been emptied rather quickly, human and non-human participants alike had scrambled out of the wide doors, and enough forsaken had followed behind them, blood lusting with their red rimmed, horrified eyes.

Caleb seemed troubled with the way he kicked over the Forsaken, leaning down to stare into the haunting eyes of a woman. Her red coiled hair had spilled out across her cracked skull, there was something beautiful in those ocher eyes, but the rest of her body had been disfigured, tortured burned marks scorched her body.

"These Forsaken aren't normal…are they?"

"No," he sighed, getting back up on his feet, "They're faster and smarter. They retain abilities of their race. It's…abnormal. Someone's perfecting the art of them." He seemed to snap with a look of darkness that over took him. His fingers gripped against his blade as he slammed it suddenly into the ground, causing Dyana to jump back.

"Caleb…" she struggled, trying to find comforting words to say. Nothing came to mind. She bit her lip as something suddenly shot out of the darkness. His eyes were blood shot red, black hair curled around his ears. His skin was a gargoyle gray, skin puckered and dried.

"_I will carve your flesh and use your bones as toothpicks," _it slurred, moving rapidly for Caleb.

Dyana starred in horror as she tried her gun, the empty chamber clicked without bullets. Caleb grasped for the blade, but it stayed thickly planted deep into the earth. He swore as he yanked on it harder.

Out of the corner something flashed, and a blade slid through the Forsaken's neck. Grey blood gurgled down the front of its hairy chest as it slumped onto its knees. Their savior came hobbling out, limping on his right foot as he grasped for another knife and sent it plunging into the things eye.

"I hate those things," Alec wrinkled his nose as he stepped out of the shadows, sweat dripping down his forehead from the effort of coming all the way over here right out of bed rest, "Ugly little bastards, used to tell Izzy she was adopted and these were her real parents."

Dyana spun around, her eyes lit up at seeing the boy conscious and alive, "Alec! You're you again!"

"Of course I'm me, who else would I be?" He seemed confused for a moment, shaking his head as he hobbled closer. Alec's muscles trembled with the effort, his breathing came out in harsh rackets.

Caleb managed to yank his blade out, cursing as he slid it through his belt, "Care to fill us in how you're here Alec?" he asked, not kindly.

Alec didn't seem to mind the briskness of Caleb's demand, "While I was unconscious I was pretty aware of everything happening. I heard of the grand master plan to go to this demon city to save me," he frowned, extremely unhappy with the thought of them all sacrificing their lives just for him, "I can't say what pulled me out of the sleep, I guess my body was healed enough. I woke up and managed to get out of bed, and come down here. I was hoping I'd be in time to stop them."

"They went through about twenty minutes ago," Dyana's reached forward, tightened her hand on the boys shoulder, "I'm sorry Alec. They're gone, I don't know how to tell them you're alive."

Caleb was glancing at the door, his eyes tracing the frame as he turned back to Dyana and Alec, "I might have an idea. If Dyana doesn't mind."

Alec looked to Dyana hopefully, "Whatever needs to be done, please do it."

Dyana hesitantly look towards Caleb, "What is it?" she asked, frowning.

"I need your blood."

"Excuse me?" her voice whipped out as she held her hands against her chest protectively.

"Not all your blood, just a little bit," he rolled his eyes, waiting for her to agree. Dyana huffed as she walked over and stuck out her hand, closing her eyes while he took out his blade.

"Baby," He muttered, though the term strangely enough held a resounding amount of emotion and endearment for it. He cupped her hand softly, his fingers brushing over his knuckles as he placed the blade across her palm, "It won't hurt for long," he amended softly, the sword bit into the flesh.

Dyana resisted yanking her arm away, it wasn't without the effort of Caleb holding onto her wrist gently. He pressed her hand against the stone, and the blood leaked into the door. It trembled and suddenly clicked open, moving aside to reveal the passage way.

"Guess I'm definitely downworlder than," she sighed, bringing her hand back.

Caleb stepped forward, he turned back to look at the both of them, "Lets get this over with."

* * *

**Sorry for the delay! Hope you all had a happy holiday and please remember to review! review is the best christmas present out there 3 **


	16. Chapter 16: Control

**Title**: The Mortal Instruments: City of Forsaken Hearts

**Chapter 16: Control **

**Authors Note**: I'm really glad you guys are enjoying the story so far and thank you to all of the reviews! YOU ARE AWESOME 3 Anyways, I will be having guests for the next week living in my tiny lovely eight hundred square foot apartment (sounds bigger than it is) so….probably won't get too many chapters out! Never fear if you don't see an update from me for a few days to a week though, its only because I've lost a quiet place to type. To make it up to you guys I've wrote a very long chapter for you. enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of its characters. All respectful material belongs to Cassandra Clare – including the universe created for this story.

* * *

The dark reflective pools of cobalt refused to settle. Whatever thoughts that entranced Alec that moment, Dyana thought they must be disturbing of nature for the way he seemed to shift and flicker and nervously blink. He was no better worse for wear than the day she had found him, his body a crypt of pain and sorrow. What a life this boy must have led. She couldn't begin to fathom, and in comfort wrapped her own childhood memories around – the fond walks through the park feeding the ducks crumbs of stale bread, birthday parties with pink icing on the cake and small party favors, her parents reading her Monty the Mighty Mouse to bed every night before kissing her nose and telling her to give her prayers to the lord above.

She had been blessed without ever acknowledging it. At twenty four she ought to have put childish thoughts behind her. There was no reason to look at a man like Caleb and think of him as a prince. She was far more practical than that. Besides, Caleb was a far cry from Charming. One minute he would be soothing, comforting and all around attentive and the next he disdained her very existence. Their only true common ground had been helping Alec, and now here he was before them.

The leather had already ripped on his jacket, left hanging loose as he moved forward. There was a slight gait in his usually smooth stride. Blood stained his pale cheek as he crossed over, hair rough and tousled in his distressed eyes. "We have to get them out of the City of…" he stopped, the words bulged in his throat.

"Alec?" Dyana crossed over to him, she could see through the shaky exterior of calm with her inquisition cop eyes. He reminded her of a witness hyped up on some drug suddenly, fighting hard to forget the truth, the way his eyes were red rimmed with plagued shadows, his face gaunt.

He looked past Dyana's shoulder to the door, mouth going dry, "It's a City of many names…but lately its been known as only one thing. The City of the Forsaken."

"Is that where you were all this time Alec?" Dyana pushed, feeling awful by the way he shuddered and nodded slowly.

"Yes." He refused to elaborate anymore. He remembered the lights of the Pandemonium Club though, the pinching pain of his broken leg as he was hauled through the doors. All the people seemed to look right past him, a glamour protected his kidnapper. He had thought it was a horrible fate, for neon glowing lights to be the last light his eyes would ever see.

"We'll get them. Okay? You stay here, Caleb and I will go."

"No." the shout came from both of them men. Alec looked fierce whereas Caleb seemed…exhausted. His shoulders were hunched over, and the sparkle in his eyes was absent.

"I'm not going," he emphasized, jaw tight and body tensed.

"What the hell do you mean you're not going?" she couldn't contain her shout as she paced over to him and poked him straight in the chest. He growled like a grizzly bear, so she poked him again to make her point – he did not unsettle her.

Caleb stepped back and swatted her hand away from him, "It generally means I'm not going."

"Well why the hell not? I can't face a City of fucking Forsaken alone!"

"You won't be alone," Alec stepped up, cheeks red as he jutted out his chin. The wariness fell off him as he rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles together, "I remember the layout of the city. And I'm not leaving Jace in there alone. He gets into too much trouble without me."

Dyana had a feeling this wasn't about Jace at all as she shut her mouth and nodded. The firm tone in his voice was so absolute it made her think of how moving a boulder uphill may be an easier feat than leaving Alec behind.

"Besides," he continued sternly, "I'm eighteen and of the Nephilim, as part of an active member in the council this is my duty." His eyes glimmered, "And intend to payback the man who put these marks on me."

"Which is all fine," Dyana huffed, glowering as she turned back to Caleb – but he was gone. She was looking only at an empty space. Her lips paused over the words. The lights bounced off the floor, the door had been left swinging open. She closed her eyes and remembered what he had told her when she had been lying in bed, wrapped up in the silk white blankets. Her hand had rested on his chest, and his lips hovered above her brow, the mop of curly brown hair crushed against the pillow. Warmth had radiated against his muscular frame, and although she hadn't understood how she had ended up tangled in sheets with Caleb ( it started with him calling her pigheaded moronic idiot and ended with her cursing him as a conceited, arrogant prick ). He had pressed his lips over the hollow of her throat, and just before her eyelids closed, he had whispered – _do not depend on me._

Guess he taught her that the hard way.

"Dyana, let's go," Alec paused at the door for her.

Dyana grumbled under her breath, cursing all of mankind as she grabbed her gun and shoved it back into the holster, "Coming."

* * *

This city was built on the blood and ashes of cursed men, demonic blood infused between sulfur and a deep burgundy brick that ran the entire length of the city, and the buildings inhabiting the creatures of both man and demon. Where Alicante was of light and brightness, graced by an angel – these streets were the dismal decrepit habitat of the damned and distraught. This was the place of nightmares, a city of Forsaken.

Clary saw none of the beauty she had seen in Alicante. She hugged her arms close to her side and followed directly behind Jace, afraid to take her eyes off him. Where she had felt safe wandering in the streets of their golden, angelic glass city she was terrified here to end up down the wrong end, turned around and completely alone. She felt a despairing need to place her rune on every wall and destroy whatever building that stood here. Magnus fiercely led the way, and she tried not to think how this place seemed to suit him.

Or Simon.

Her best friend seemed almost…energized in this place. His eyes were brighter, he walked quicker, arms swinging by the side as he seemed predisposed to this atmosphere. He glanced around, craning his neck to see all and Isabelle remained tight lipped and tense next to him. There was no strain between his shoulder blades.

The walls seemed to narrow, the sky twisted above, and Clary glanced over wishing for a moment to have her notebook and some colored pencils. She wanted to outline the menacing way the sky twisted, with colors of inky ebony and dark purples. An eerie green mist swirled through the streets. She glanced up at Magnus, and noticed he seemed to sparkle even more here.

The warlock turned around and winked at his unsettled tour group, "If your questioning the unnatural color of our sky and mist, it's from magic. The overabundance of it leaks into the environment and well…strange things tend to happen."

"And the skulls outlining the walls?" Jace asked with a snarl, "I suppose that's from an overabundance of magic too."

"Only an overabundance of annoyance," Magnus corrected him, turning down a black alley. He formed his hands to have two little glowing lights bulb out, and hover around him. His footprints echoed down the dark street, and he stopped suddenly in front of a rather large, Victorian style house. It looked as if it had been created in the eighteen hundreds in London.

Actually, now that Clary thought of it – all the homes retained that English touch, gargoyles gleamed from pointed roof tops, the homes were sets of angles, and wide spreading. Each one seemed to carry a crest of sorts imprinted into every surface. This house had a strange, intertwining cobra snake with three heads, fangs poised to strike.

"Magnus, where are we?" Clary shuddered as she squeezed her arms tighter around her.

Magnus paused, his fingers traveled over the engraved seal, "My home," the words tasted like bile on his tongue as he walked swiftly up the creaking stairs and stroked a finger against the door. Blue sparks sizzled from his fingernails as the wide door gave a groaning sound. Its knocker was an old fashion serpents head, his eyes two gold coins.

Clary watched it with a prickle of fear up her spine. She could have sworn as she scooted by it, that the snake's tongue slithered to life. "Jace!" her voice squeaked a bit as she skidded forward, her hand shooting out to grab Jace's. He turned around with a prepared smirk at her ashen face.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you from the scary door handle," he promised, grinning as he stood in awe of what Magnus had dully termed his home.

The curtains were a lavish emerald green and red. The furniture was oak and handcrafted centuries ago. A crocodile had been mounted above an empty fireplace, the ashes yet to be swept out. They stood on a carpet weaved of gold, with tiny sparkling diamonds glittering. Two grand staircases led to an upstairs, and dangling in the middle was the largest statue of a half man, half gargoyle like creature Clary had ever seen.

Again, her fingers itched for her sketchpad. There was something both beautiful and hideous about him, half a wing shredded out of his shoulder blade, his eyes downcast to the ground. The material was of a rich, thick marble. His eyes gleamed, two green emeralds that were snake like in appearance. He towered at least seven feet tall, and the black marble oozed something eloquent and graceful. Clary felt her fingers grow cold with the temptation to touch it.

She reached out to stroke his mid-thigh which was at her shoulder level when Magnus put a hand on top of hers to stop her.

"I wouldn't if I were you," he murmured, his eyes brisk as he glanced at the statue. Anger swelled and rose within his chest, "Father tends to curse interesting objects."

"You have a father?" Isabelle scrunched up her face as she asked, starring at the mesmerizing statue as they all were. Considering Magnus was some eight hundred years old it just never registered to her much, the only time he had mentioned it was against the demon they had called to try and save Jace.

Magnus snorted, rolling his eyes. Glitter left behind a powdered blur as he chose not to answer the remark and instead began to trail upstairs. His hands had turned into small fists that shook at his side, as they tended to do whenever his father came up into conversation.

_You are tainted by the blood of the sire._

Those words never failed to echo in his mind, they never allowed him to forget why he was the best warlock, why he came from a name other demons feared. Why he had chosen often enough times, to help the Nephilim instead of spite them as many downworlders preferred to do.

It was childish, but it was his only way at spitting back at his father's face.

"Magnus! Magnus! How are we saving my brother?" Isabelle rushed forward up the stairs, scowling as she fell behind him.

"First we have to conceal your marks and make it safe for you to walk the streets…well…" he paused, "safer, at least," the chances of them becoming caught was…extremely likely. Magnus frowned in consideration to that as he continued to pass the second floor and went up to the third floor.

"This way my little ducks!" he called out in a grumble.

"Do not compare me to those venomous, evil little bastards," Jace snarled from behind, blonde hair falling in his eyes as he easily kept up with Magnus.

Clary frowned as she watched Jace's back, "What's wrong with ducks?"

"Don't ask," Simon warned her in a hushed whisper at her side. He shook his head as Magnus finally stopped and strolled down another hallway. This one had rich red and gold wallpaper, there were portraits hung in gold frame all of detailed artistic talent, but the work took Clary's breath away. They were scenes from Dante's Inferno, cleverly crafted and each depicting levels of misery and sorrow. Clary turned her eyes away from the mother swaddling a babe with the burning oil licking at her flesh, little flies darting around her bloodied eyes.

"This place is horrible," she interjected, keeping her eyes to the ground as she refused to stare at the paintings, "I can't believe anything is going to help Alec can be good coming from this place."

Magnus stopped, his chin lifted to stare at her, "You're not wrong. This place is a horrible place. It is why many of us prefer the human world, even if it means annoyances such as glamour and hiding, at least those of us who consider enough of our human side worth protecting. There are many, who do not share this belief and are quite happy to call this home. As for saving Alec, even I am not sure what good can come, but once again I am dragged into your little problems to save the day, so we do this my way and we stop complaining about it."

Clary scowled as her shoulders dipped, "Please. You're here because you want to save Alec. We didn't have to drag you anywhere. Because that's what you do when you love someone, you go to the ends of the earth for them. You even go to places like this, or a hotel full of vampires or some creepy house that keeps moving across the world with your insane, sadistic half-brother!"

"Are you saying I needed rescuing?" Jace narrowed his brows at that.

"I think," Simon cleared his throat, trying to sound important, "Clary is trying to say we are all here for Alec and we all are extremely tired of this whole, 'I don't love that sparkly warlock' and 'I don't love that shadow hunter with holes in his sweaters' defense you two keep using because nobody believes it and we're finding the pretenses exhausting. Why don't you just two just kiss and make up?"

"SIMON!" Clary gasped, starring wide eyed at her, extremely loud mouthed friend, her eyebrows narrowed. That had not been the point she had been making at all. She had only been feeling a sense of unity had been missing from their group with Magnus, their sparkling warlock leader, in a bit of a temper.

"Because I am the hero, I rescue the damsel. Not the other way around," Jace continued, unperturbed that nobody seemed to be listening to him at that moment.

Magnus, who was always so sturdy, who never seemed surprised, or thrown for a loop stood there immobilized – starring directly at Simon with his piercing cat eyes. He finally drew in a shaky breath, "You don't understand Shelburt. It's complicated."

"Shelburt?" Simon whispered to Clary in confusion. Was that even a name?

"I think it means loud mouthed idiot in a different language," Isabelle cut in, her face grim as she scowled over at Simon, one hand propped onto her hip.

_Shit. Not the hand on the hip. _"I was just pointing out the obvious," he gripped under his breath as Magnus spun around and continued to walk.

Jace shot him a dirty look as he pulled Clary aside, asking why all of her friends seemed to be idiots.

Clary took a long, dragged out breath. "It's a curse."

* * *

"This place gives me the shivers," Dyana stated as soon as they made their way down the sloping dirt hole into the dead quiet city. The streets were emptied, except for an eerie green mist that thickly clung to everything. She couldn't see her feet through it as it swallowed up her ankles and calves and had her prickling with suspicion when something ran over her foot.

Alec surged ahead, his hand clamped tightly against his seraph blade. He remembered these streets, running with blood, the mortals screeching as they ran through the labyrinth of tall marble black buildings in terror of the games. Her hair was silver white, and she had pale, blue eyes. There was something delicate, and doll-like about her statue, lithe body and tiny bones. Her cheeks had sagged in, taking away from her beauty. A red ribbon curled through her hair, her blue little dress was torn and muddy, hanging damply around her knees. _Please! No God! Please! I want to go home! Please God, let me go home! _Her sobs had wracked across her body when she fell, blood skidded across the cold, coble ground.

"..Alec…" Dyana called to him concern, his eyes had gone black as night as he looked around. A silver maroon outline of a rune suddenly flashed on the back of his neck.

The silver kiss of his knife burned against her neck, blood squirted out, spraying across his pants and bare torso. Murder was a messy business, the stench of her fallen, worm riddled body pierced the air. The green mist swished around her body, enticed by the blood it seemed. Her blue little dress was plastered to her sickly and sweated body as the coldness only death can bring froze over her. The silvery white hair went out like a halo around her head. Her hand fell out, palm forward as her fingers curled over the girl's first mark of the Nephilim. _We have a winner!_

The seraph blade was burning in his hands, he grasped it tighter and the sensation flooded his body. The pain was rich and caused him to finally let go of the blade.

It was the clatter of his seraph blade onto the ground that alarmed Dyana, her heart pricked harshly with fear as she watched his shoulders begin to upright, and Alec move forward with a confidence that did not belong to him.

"ALEC!" Dyana moved forward, clutching a small knife from her belt. The rune continued to glow unnaturally against his neck and she hastily sliced the small blade over it, breaking the mark.

Alec's attention flickered back, his hand suddenly reached up to press cool fingers against the warm flow of blood spill. His breath came in gasps as he looked around, and then back to Dyana with a pallid complexion. "Dyana…" his throat went tight as he looked around. "I killed someone here," he closed his eyes, silent.

"It wasn't you," she tried to reassure him, biting down on her bottom lip as she reached forward and touched his shoulder, "You aren't responsible for it."

"She was max's age…" he murmured quietly, blue eyes cast down.

"Alec do you remember dropping your blade?" Dyana hastily bent down, fingers grazing over the hilt of the sword.

"DYANA NO!" fear flickered in Alec's eyes as he tried to reach forward quickly enough to stop her, hand outstretched as panic boomed in his heart.

Dyana starred at him, fingers closed over the hilt as she picked it up and handed it back to him, "What? I'm just retrieving it for you, I'm not going to keep it."

"That's not it, it's just…" his mouth dried as he took the blade from her. "That should have killed you."

"WHAT?" Dyana retracted her hand far from the blade, "What the hell do you mean it should have killed me? Why didn't you warn me about this sooner?"

Alec scowled as he plucked the blade back to his side, hand resting on the hilt, "I just did! Look just don't touch it again. We really need to figure out what you are before the Clave takes interest."

This wasn't exactly a good enough answer for her. Why the hell could she touch the thing in the first place? Dyana's fingers curled through her honey brown curls, she thought of Caleb, and those tormented blue eyes staring at her in the night, his finger out marking the back of her neck where the strange, twisted rune appeared. _What are you? _He had whispered to himself, causing her to stir unhappy half in dream and half in reality.

_I am Dyana. I'm a pitiful five foot, five inches tall, with most of that height caused by my hair. My parents are Richard and Simone Cole. They went missing six months ago in New York and I need to find them. I was in the top five percent tile of my police academy class. I hate winter and other people's feet by me. I've only had my heart broken once. I watch bad re-runs, old black and white movies and hove horrible taste in music. I'm twenty five years old and have absolutely no idea what direction my life is going. That is who I am. That is all that matters._

"I don't know what the Clave is, so I'm not even going to ask. And never mind what I am. I'm more concerned about what _you _are," Dyana glanced back behind her before she took the lead and continued to walk on ahead. Alec caught up to her quickly. His hand grabbed her elbow tightly as he pulled her between two buildings as they continued to walk away. Dyana pursed her lips about to ask why, when she suddenly heard loud voices bouncing down the long, narrow street they had been on. She pressed her back firmly to the chilled, marble slate as three demons came roaming through.

She had never seen a demon up close, Dyana had always imagined them to be ugly, fierce looking things with ashen leathery skin, horns and fangs with brown gruel bubbling around curled, pimpled lips. There was nothing hideous about these demons that strolled through – in fact they by human standards they were quite beautiful. Their hair fell in long ebony strands, braided and well kept down bare muscular shoulders. Their skin was a glistening gold, when they smiled white sharp teeth flashed. They wore a brown leathery type armor that suited roman times, pads on their chests and shoulders, thick leather belt around trim waist lines. Engraved in the belt was a three headed cobra, glittering with every step. The boots were thick and heavy around their calves. They joked and laughed, their eyes a swirl of emerald and silver. She starred transfixed on their beauty as they slipped past, completely blind to Dyana and Alec.

"Those are demons?" she gasped at Alec.

Alec shrugged, unimpressed. "They come in various degrees of ugly," he explained before moving on.

Dyana followed close behind him, her eyes traced the strange marking against his neck. It wasn't exactly like hers, she could see the difference in the basic outline, his rune had three circles intertwined together, two dots rested above the top circle. Her marking was three curved lines, a circle marked between each line, and the lines thickened towards the outer edge. His marking also had an ugly, nasty slash through the middle of the intertwined circles. It was already healing.

"What happened here, Alec?" her voice barely rose above a whisper, terrified the question might bring out an unstable reaction in the way his shoulders suddenly dipped and his body tensed, "And how did you wake up?"

"I-," Alec paused, hesitantly wavering, "I don't remember," he answered honestly. The line of his muscle quivered along his back, "I know this place. I know the streets and the buildings, I know when we turn the corner there's going to be a large statue of Lilith overlooking her city. But I don't know how I know. Whenever I try to remember, I feel this…uncontrollable pain and I have to stop," he turned towards her now, his eyes frightened, "I don't know how I woke up Dyana, I just did. It's like something pulled on me and told me it was time to open my eyes and I had to listen. Something's _wrong _with me, and I know it."

"Alec, before when you dropped your blade," Dyana took in a breath, it was cold and burned on her tongue. The air here felt acidic to her, "Your eyes, they were black and the mark…it was glowing. When I called your name you didn't respond. We need to do more than find the others here, we need to figure out what's still happening to you."

Alec nodded, hair brushing into his eyes as he clung to his blade, his hands shivered – from fear or cold neither Dyana or Alec could tell. "I can't go back with you. If I'm not fixed…I'll be too dangerous I could end up turning back into that…_that thing!"_ disgust soaked the words, his nose wrinkling as he spat at the ground. Anger curled in his eyes like a coiling snake ready to strike.

"We'll get that mark off you Alec, don't worry," Dyana soothed, she reached out and gripped his shoulder hard, "I promise Alec. I'm going to get that damn mark off you and your going to go home. I can't swear by the angel like your lot does, I'm not Nephilim. I don't know what I am, and I don't know what's sacred enough to swear on, but my promise will hold. I will get that mark off you!"

The declaration was so strong, Alec could only stare at her in wonder and shock, he couldn't quite remember anyone caring to that degree, not besides Isabelle and Jace. _Magnus, Magnus used to care until you fucked it all up. _He didn't want to think about Magnus right now, and banished the name and the thoughts away of the sparkling, handsome immortal warlock he could not call his anymore. "Why do you care so much, Dyana?" he asked stubbornly, brushing her promise off. It shouldn't matter, his fate to her.

"You remind me of someone important," she replied, giving a casual shrug, "He would have wanted me to help you out, especially since I am responsible."

"How are you responsible?" he was eighteen, a member of the clave now. That made him responsible for himself, he wouldn't hold a Mundie, or at least someone who seemed to be a Mundie, responsible for his own fate. This was all on him, it was his mess to fix.

"I brought you to the hospital where that ugly creature was and-" she stopped, her mind replaying that scene, of the lumbering thick creature heading towards them. "…OH…" she gasped.

"What?"

"Oh my god…" of course, she should have noticed the comparison so much sooner. Her job was making the connections, spotting details others missed.

"What?!" Alec's voice grew restless and irritated with the more she stood there, shell shocked and starring off into space.

"Two weeks before you were attacked a kid went missing," her voice was dry, she spoke in a monotone voice, void of dread or fear or any other excitable emotion, "He was one of those run away cases, no one gave him much importance. Of course knowing what I know now he was a werewolf."

"A werewolf was changed into a Forsaken?"

Dyana nodded numbly, "Alec…do you think what's happening to you could be…similar?"

She winced as she asked the question, because the color sucked straight out of Alec's face. His eyes went wide as he vigorously shook his head, "No one is turning me into a forsaken. No!" he edged away from her, and turned on his heels.

"Alec wait!" Dyana cursed as she reached forward. She grabbed a tuff of his jacket, her hands slid over the smooth material as he wretched himself away and tore off.

"ALEC!" she watched him as he didn't pause, running down the misty street, the silver glint of his sword the last she saw as he turned the corner. "Shit!" she spurted forward, giving into the chase, but as she rounded the corner and saw the several alleyways splitting off into different directions she knew it was a lost cause.

The City had swallowed Alec up.

* * *

**Thanks for reading guys, please remember to drop a review! **


	17. Chapter 17: Damned

**Title**: The Mortal Instruments: City of Forsaken Hearts

**Chapter 17: Damned **

**Authors Note**: Hey everyone, thank you for reviewing chapter sixteen! I absolutely adore hearing from all of you, it really is a huge motivator to keep writing the story! Sorry for the delay in updating with this chapter – I had more relatives visiting and that ended up taking a lot of my time. But I am back and here is Chapter seventeen, a chapter I have been waiting quite awhile to write.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of its characters. All respectful material belongs to Cassandra Clare – including the universe created for this story.

* * *

"Keep your seraph blades to yourselves here, she won't be of any help otherwise," Magnus's bleak voice caused a ripple of concern across the small group of Nephilim. Jace's shoulders tensed, Isabelle flinched and Clary's eyes went round. Only Simon seemed to remain relaxed, oddly in a peaceful state within this city. Magnus had promised them help, and this was what he would deliver as he stood in front of an odd door – odd because every other door had furnishings and decorations engraved and carved, yet this stood old and smoothly polished with nothing to set it apart from an ordinary mundane door.

The wood creaked in age as Magnus turned the handle, pushing the door open so a sliver of light fell through the cracks. Something clicked on the other side, the sound of a jaw cracking echoed out of the hall. Two pale gold eyes glimpsed at them from the shadows. Magnus widened the door, his arm a barrier between whatever stood inside and the shadow hunters behind him. He dealt with her in a wary form, after all this was not someone to trifle with.

"Ah Magnus. Have you come to pay me patronage?" her voice was beautiful – it tugged on hearts and caused dreams to come true. Clary leaned forward, wishing to hear more of that soft, silky voice that made her think of happy, childhood memories. Jace and Isabelle seemed to be in similar states, goofy smiles on their faces, all leaning forward with the hopes of hearing the voice again.

"Enough," Magnus thundered, blue sparks illuminated from his fingertips in temper, "Don't bait them Hecate, parlor tricks rarely suit you."

She emerged from the shadows then, three upper torso's and heads sharing one waist and a slender pair of legs. Her hair fell in sways of violet, her silvery eyes glimpsed the young shadow hunters behind him. The green that radiated off her skin was the color of morning grass. She raised her two hands attached to her torso, the other two heads and arms seemed preoccupied with something else, starring far off into the distance. "Ah, so the child plagued of despair has finally come to me for aid."

"You keep a demon in your home?" Jace finally snorted behind, walking past Magnus to stare down the demon. His fingers twitched to chuck his seraph blade through her cold black heart.

"This one needs some manners, Magnus," she tisked strongly, the scent of lavender and sulfur rolled off her in an overpowering wave. She continued to flicker her serpents tongue out in impatience.

Magnus folded his arms over his chest, "My father has compelled you to stay within the confines of this room. You will do as we bid and tell us the meaning of these symbols and the activity of the Forsaken." His voice boomed out powerfully, causing Simon and Clary to tremble back away from him. He was still Magnus Bane, and he would find respect, in even the demon of witches eyes.

Hecate chortled, a very pleasing sound to the ear as Jace and Isabelle and Clary seemed entranced once more with her, "You will get nothing from me for free Bane. A sentiment I am sure you are familiar with." She smiled, gloatingly as she did so knowing the warlock's steep prices he demanded for the cost of magic.

"Then name your price," the words tightened across his face, as Magnus forced them to come out. He could remember when he first sealed Hecate in this room. She had promised death, long and lingering for him. It hadn't been until recently he realized she had sat here and gloated this whole time, for she knew his curse of immortality and loving those that were not.

"Freedom," the word rolled off her tongue, surprising no one. She smiled, inspecting her nails as she watched with a predatory eye.

Magnus bulked, and with good reason. The moment he allowed her out of the silvery markings of a demon trap painted upon the floor, she would swiftly carve out his heart on a silver platter. "You and I both know that's not happening."

Hecate rolled her eyes, becoming increasingly bored with him, and far more fascinated with the shape of her pearly pink nail, "Fine. Let your shadow hunter lover die his painful death," she yawned, stretching her legs as she started to shrink back into the shadows, "Alexander Lightwood will meet a most unwelcoming fate. A price you seem willing to pay Magnus Bane."

"Wait!" Magnus swore as she mentioned Alec. There were many things Hecate was, many dealings she had been involved in, many lives she had sacrificed and taken without care – but she was not a liar. She had never needed to be. She was a woman of hard, cold truths, and she used the words like ice on the soul. "We both know the moment I free you, is the moment I draw my last breath."

"Hmm, so suspicious of your own natural talents? I would have thought the infamous Warlock Bane could hold his own against the likes of me," this statement caused the two other heads to turn, a smile of wickedness darkened their features. The one on her left reached out, and slid a hand through Clary's red hair, curling her fingers over the lock. Clary remained motionless, eyes wide as the bony fingers grasped her carrot curls and gave a nasty pull.

"LET HER GO!" Jace roared, suddenly slicing out his seraph blade and making a move to slice the demon's hand off. She had five more, he doubted she'd miss it. Hecate let out a nasty snarl, withdrawing her hand before the Seraph blade made contact.

"She is most interesting, child of the angel," Hecate purred, slipping a strand of red hair coiled around her finger into her pocket on the fashioned black dress.

"She isn't of any concern, Alexander Lightwood is," Magnus repeated firmly, desperate to get the answers from the demon now. He rubbed his palms together, eyes sparkling with disgust at what he was about to do, "You will tell us everything in regards to Alexander Lightwood and the mark on the back of his neck and then maybe you will have freedom."

She snarled, displeased by the bargain, her lips twitched as she seemed to suddenly consult with the two other heads, their hands all reached down, gripping each other. All six eyes slid shut, and then wide open, she nodded gravely to Magnus. "Your terms are accepted, It is the demon Mastema you desire, he is the one with answers as for the boy and the mark…" she paused, her smile sweetening, "It is not an easily lifted mark, the longer he wears the devils fingerprint, the longer he will succumb to the devil."

"How do we lift it," Isabelle rushed forward, elbowing into Simon and Clary as she approached Hecate. Her black hair fell around her shoulders, and she defiantly lifted her chin up against the greater demon. She would not shrink from fear, nor from the test and trials in order to save her brother.

Hecate shrugged, "Maybe I know, maybe the words are on the tip of my tongue but I need some…guarantee of keeping your word before I tell you."

Magnus scowled, blue tints of magic glinted in his eyes as he brought his hand up, a roll of blue fire ignited in his palm and he tossed it down over the white scratched marks of the binding spell. The moment the seal broke, a wild, maniacal laughter lifted and black smoke poured out from every corner of the room. Hecate's six hands held out, grasping onto the smoke as she stood there, the green light on her skin illuminated as she grew taller, and bigger. She towered an easy four feet over Magnus, dimples flashing in her cheeks as she turned to him.

"Burn the mark with the holy water of Eremiel, before it is too late. Fair well children of angels and beware of the darkness that grows."

She left behind a burned mark into the carpet, and the scent of sulfur that tainted the air. Jace scowled as he picked up his seraph blade, running a hand down Clary's arm as he checked if she was okay. Isabelle wrapped her arms tight around her chest, and looked up surprised to see Simon drawing an arm around her, whispering that it would be alright. Nobody even noticed Magnus slinking out the back.

* * *

He stepped into the foggy emerald haze curling into smoking wisps throughout the alley. A steady rain had begun to slap rhythmically against the cold, maroon streaked cement and the warlock found himself tapping his foot as if in beat. His gelled glittery spikes were matted down instantly, the rain washed away a river of multi-colored sparkles, leaving his head inky and black as the day he was born. Magnus parted his lips, drinking in the rain.

_You foolish, stupid, inflexible warlock. _The rain dampened in his shoulders, water soaked through the expensive silk fabric, and as his muscles coiled and stirred he felt the irritating rub of ruined taffeta. He could have had years with Alec – more visits to eccentric, lavish places as tourists, more nights curled together under the soft white blankets his nephilim preferred. He still remembered Alec's wide, shocked eyes at the glittery blood red sheets.

_I am __**not **__sleeping in that – especially naked._

_Alec, these sheets are fashionable, and they are me! That's like saying you don't want to sleep naked in me._

_Change the damn sheets._

_I don't believe I have moth-eaten navy blue in store, but I'll check. Just for you._

They had agreed towards the nice beige, with the stipend that Magnus chose what he desired for the rest of the house – but the bedroom sheets, and the towering stack of 'demon killing 101' and 'a hoax on demon pox' were all touches of Alec. And damn him, for not changing the sheets, for not burning the books, for not erasing those piercing blue eyes from his memory as he should have.

Damn him, for loving a mortal. It was a torch he would carry now, that would never burn out. The blazing gleam of love would remain ignited and burning until the end of his days – however long his immortality might last. And above all else, damn that Alexander Lightwood for making him love him and his holey sweaters, his egg-shell self-consciousness, the bravery to defend his friends, those moody blue eyes.

He would forever damn those blue eyes.

"Magnus?" His name sounded out from behind him, and stiffly the warlock turned around. He felt his fine temper bubbling, hands curled into fists and his glowing cat eyes narrowed with distress. The rain continued to fall, soaking him to the bone as he looked around suspiciously with blue little sparks coming off his fingertips in anticipation of an attack. The sound of distant footsteps grew nearer, and nearer, and then nearer still.

He felt the soft bristle of fingertips, skirt along his muscular lean shoulder, and Magnus's lips curled back tight. He wielded around, eyes wide and fingertips sparkling – but nothing was there. Nobody. He was alone. As he always had been. "You're losing it Bane," he warned himself. He spun around, prepared to stalk off back to his father's property.

Alec Lightwood stood in his way.

Those bloody blue eyes gleamed, and the whites of his teeth flashed. He wasn't in one of his horrible worn out, faded sweaters and dark crisp pants. The leather he wore was water resistant, and tiny beads of raindrops slid down the black jacket. His hand was rested against the hilt of a seraph blade, a black rune swirled against his knuckles. Stealth. He had blood dripping from his other hand, it bleed in with the rain coming down. He shook his dark hair that was pressed to his skull.

Alec. Leather. Rain.

Something tightened in Magnus belly, the tingles of anticipated pleasure caused his toes to want to curl. It was the most delicious scent coming off the nephilim – the combination of his rich oiled leather smell and the rain water slapping around them and just a faint hint of something else.

"Alec," his name came out almost robotic, as if Magnus had practiced and perfected saying the boy's name a hundred times in front of the mirror for the day he finally saw him. The warlock, who considered himself so highly advanced, and so below mortal impulses forgot himself for just a moment then, and reached forward for Alec. His large hands slid around the nephilim's face, framing it as he eagerly pushed his lips and his body against his. He felt the pleasurable jerk of shock as Alec grasped his wet shirt and pulled him tighter, their lips crashing together, tongues infusing and the sound of their wet bodies plastered together. He couldn't tell himself from his Nephilim, for just that one moment.

The air was sweeter kissing Alec, his fingers tightened along the back of his black leather jacket, he felt a simmer of shock and pleasure as Alec bit down on his bottom lip quite hard and sucked. His Lightwood was usually better tempered when kissing him – this was a siege though, Alec's nails clawed against his back, ripping at his skin. He suddenly heard the rip of fabric, and the feel of human nails sharp on his wet back muscle. He might have made a purring sound in the back of his throat. If he did, it was something he would never admit to. He felt teeth again against his neck, biting down – _hard. _It sent ripples of pleasure through Magnus as he felt Alec's hands rip at his shirt in the front now, leaving red marks down his chest. _Mother Lilith have mercy. _He groaned as Alec hips grinded hard against his own. His entire body tensed and he could feel the blood begin to rush towards an erection.

"Alec – I," thoughts came back, how they needed to talk and not rip each other apart, though his nephilim was doing a fine job at that. _And when did he become your nephilim again? _ Magnus bayed the little voice to be quiet as Alec shoved him hard against a brick wall. The rain changed direction, and the familiar scent he hadn't pinpointed before came back.

This time, Magnus recognized it. Sulfur.

His loins were pulsing and throbbing, the touch of Alec's hands were driving him wild with a desire he had craved since he had said goodbye to his shadow hunter. He heard the sound of his own buckle being clipped. It clattered onto the wet ground, and before Alec had time to wrestle his zipper open, Magnus's arms grabbed his shoulders and held him back at arm's length.

A faint look of amusement was on Alec's face, not at all the expression Magnus had been expecting.

"Isn't this what you want warlock?" his voice deepened in a rumble, "I'm still young and viable for sex. Might as well get your use out of me now, and move on to a younger shadowhunter once I'm too old for my body to please you."

"What? Alec you know I love you, this is ridiculous. Where are these thoughts coming from?" His voice tempered, and blue lightening flashed with his mood in the sky. He rolled back in the magic before it out lashed again. Insult sparked in his eyes though, and his fingers tightened with the small roll of nausea in his gut. Something felt so very…off.

Alec paused, he seemed to stare at the ground for a good while. Finally his eyes traveled up over Magnus and his tattered shirt, the ripped claw marks through his chest, the swollen bite marks on his neck. "Love…" he shook his head, the word bitter on his tongue, "Love is for the weak," and then his seraph blade whipped out, and sliced through Magnus's chest.

* * *

"We need to inform the Clave about everything, you know I'm the last one to admit that as I think they're rather useless half the time, but this is too big for us," Isabelle paced back and forth, hands scrunched up in her dark ebony curls and eyes brimming with a combination of restlessness and urgency.

"Good idea Izzy, too bad we don't know where the clave is, or if they're even alive," Jace snorted from behind her, his arms folded tight across his chest as he remained guard by the door. He kept a special eye on Clary as Izzy continued to pace and mutter under her voice.

"I don't see you coming up with any solutions!"

"Guys!" Clary jumped up, before the physical fight broke out and they ended up breaking something that was cursed, or would shower them in sparkles. Who knew when what was safe when this was Magnus. "Izzy is right. We can't help Alec until we know what happened to the Clave, and Alicante! I hate to say it, but I think we need to go to the bone city," she shuddered at the thought.

Jace frowned, his eyes lingering up at the ceiling decorations as he kept his thoughts to himself. He could still remember the last time he had been held prisoner in the bone city, and couldn't say he was looking forward to going back. Of course Brother Zachariah might help them, he at least had a sense of humor.

"Great. First the City of Demons and now onto the City of Bones. Do you guys have any happy named cities? Like maybe the _City of Rainbows _or the _City Where Shit Stops Happening to Simon_? I'd really love to visit there."

"Stop complaining vampire, hardly anything has happened to you," Jace grumbled. He absently rubbed the mark of his parabati. He could feel how off something was with Alec.

"I suppose thinking your best friend is dead, being tackled by an idiot blond jerk, turned into a rat, kidnapped by vampires, turned into a vampire, kidnapped by valentine, drinking your blood, receiving a strange mark of death on my forehead, stalked by crazy vampires, having your mother think you're a monster, and nearly being smite by an angel really is nothing,"

"My blood is fantastic, it was the best thing you've ever tasted so stop complaining," Jace retorted in a growl as he moved forward towards the door at Simon. Clary stepped in the middle and pushed him back on the chest with one finger. Her eyes narrowed at him, and he slumped his shoulders and scowled in response.

"Stop fighting it isn't helping, we need to find Magnus," she had noticed the warlock had vanished right after their introduction to Hecate. He had slunk out the door during all of their mutual shouting's at each other trying to build a plan.

"Fine, you all stay here and I'll go find Magnus," Jace ordered, picking up his jacket and slinging it over his shoulders.

"You can't go out alone!" He could be killed, or end up injured or…or worse. Clary's lips tightened as she stood between him and the door.

"Fine. Izzy. Let's go. You two stay here."

"I'm not staying here if you're going out there!" she was probably acting like a child, stomping her foot as she starred dejectedly at Jace.

"Clary we are in a demon city, and you've barely had any training," he leaned down, pressed his lips to the top of her head, "It's just not safe out there for somebody like you."

_For somebody like you…._Clary's eyes narrowed, "What do you mean by, somebody like you?"

"You know," Jace grinned, ruffling her hair, "somebody with a lack of training."

"A huh," she glared at him as she looked towards Simon, "Well guess we'd slow these two down, we'll just have to go out on our own, right Simon?"

Simon unfurled his feet from the couch, he shrugged as he stood up, his gangly height had him nearly hitting his head on a low set burning lamp, "Lead the way Fray."

"NO! NO! NO!" Jace's face was red as he starred at the both of them, "Forget it vampire. The only thing worse than Clary going out there, is going out there with you. At least if she's with me I can protect her." He snapped, grabbing Clary's hand and dragging her through the door, "Let's go." His teeth gnashed together over the order.

Clary beamed as she winked at Simon. That was easier than she had thought.

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Hey guys hope you enjoyed this chapter, please review and tell me how it goes so far, I love hearing from you! Enjoy the Malec cliff hanger : )


	18. Chapter 18: Future

**Title**: The Mortal Instruments: City of Forsaken Hearts

**Chapter 18: Future**

**Authors Note**: Hey everyone, sorry for the huge gap in update of chapters! I just got some really bad writers block and my life got incredibly busy! My apologies, I love all of my readers and all of the reviews you guys keep giving me, so I definitely want to keep writing and seeing this story through to the end.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of its characters. All respectful material belongs to Cassandra Clare – including the universe created for this story.

* * *

The blood was warm and sweet as it soaked through Magnus's shinny metallic cobalt shirt, staining it with a rusting color. He touched the wound hazily with his fingertips, brushing the flowing stench of what was part human that diverged from him. He felt less of pain, than he did of weakness. The lethargic sense consumed him, his thick lashes fluttered, but the worst of it all was the noise that Alec made.

It was a sound of shock and horror, ripping past his all too tight, suffocating larynx. The dark receded from Alec's eyes as he starred at the long slashing wound across Magnus's chest – a wound he had created. His hands were splattered with Magnus's blood, and he tripped back on his heels, terrified he would pick up the sword again. "Magnus…" the sound of his name cracked in his voice. He continued to hold his hands out, blood dripping onto the pavement in slow drops.

With one hand clutching his wound, Magnus reached out with the other hand, his yellow cat eyes dark, "Alec. Don't –" but before he could grab him, before he could tell him not to run, Alec turned and he fled down the dark corridor into the city. Magnus swore as his body stitched itself back together. The healing process pulled and stretched his skin, feeling more painful than the actual slice of the seraph blade itself. He felt a rush of helplessness as Alec took off, and he was unable to decently follow as the blood continued to spill from his heart.

He knew he had to get far, far away from Magnus. He wouldn't risk the sensation of falling asleep in his body, being pushed aside for something else to come and man the controls inside of his head. He had been so dizzy, his vision blurred. The weight and feel of the blade had been real in his hands, but he had been in a dream-like state. He hadn't realized what his arm had done until it was over, until the fog cleared and revealed the macabre of blood gushing out from Magnus. Alec shivered as he continued to drive himself farther into the city.

A pull called to him, the siren's voice sweet and serenading throughout the city streets. He stopped hesitantly to listen to the gentle, silvery wave of music that was luring him closer to the center of the city. The familiar haze flushed around his mind, he could almost feel himself giving up – like going under a wave of water and finally, ceasing the endless kicking and pulling and dragging in breath. He was going under, and allowing it all to happen.

He walked closer, the music grew louder, and he was slowly giving in, the mark on his neck flared hot, like flames licking too close to his flesh. His fists clenched tighter as the shadow hunter paused, the music grew to a crescendo, violins clashing and angrily stringing along each note.

It sounded less like beauty and more like chaos with every step he took. Around the rising buildings of slate and brimstone and brick, he saw the iron walls surrounding a black leaning building, its peak went above the greenish clouds and into the night sky. A large circular opening with curving dark green vines and a thick condensed fog was open to the entrance. He took another step – and then another.

His fingers touched the metal, the vine wrapped around his wrist, and just as he was about to step foot inside the circular courtyard protected by iron and vines, the greenery around his wrist grasped tighter around his wrist and painfully yanked him back off his feet. He fell several feet away, a burn mark circling his wrist, dust clouded up around his body at the disturbance.

"I wouldn't go in there," Magnus stepped out, the vine retracted at his presence and wove back into its place among the iron and purple budded flowers. The blood had dried off his shirt and his hands, he hadn't had time to clean up, and had barely been able to move fast enough to stop Alec from entering the center of the city.

Alec's eyes flashed, confusion and misery battled there as he gingerly touched the burned mark on his wrist.

"Ah, yes. I apologize for that, but I had to stop you," Magnus explained, regret pained in his throat at the burned mark across his wrist. If he could have avoided it…well he hadn't been able to, and that was the point.

Alec seemed unsure, remaining on the ground where it felt safer, "Why would you care?" confusion mottled his voice as he raked a hand through his dark hair, his eyes swirled in torment as he glanced at his feet. "I've nearly tried to kill you, twice now."

It was a painful truth that they both knew. First he had considered cutting Magnus's immortality, and now he had wielded a seraph blade against him. The first was of his own nature, his own fault. Perhaps the second time he had been confused, someone else had moved his hand, pushed him forward…but it had still been his body, his seraph blade, his fault.

"Hmm, yes about that," his voice dropped as he considered the endless weeks of existence without Alec, and the moment he had found out he was gone – the fear of his mortality being cut short. He thought about each painful second, that he had denied the truth to everyone, insisting that he was fine without his blue eyed shadow hunter. It was time to admit he wasn't, not at all. And he wasn't prepared to lose him yet, not when he was still right in front of him. "I may have been hasty in my temper, I do still love you after all."

Alec scoffed from the ground.

"You doubt me?" anger conflicted with insult as Magnus glared at him, he had never lied to Alec, ever. And he certainly had never lied about loving him. He stepped closer, and could see it quite plain and simple written out in Alec's eyes. "You do. You think I don't love you anymore."

"I think we both know I screwed up enough to ruin that," Alec's voice was tart, his lips tight as he refused to look at Magnus. Until Magnus stepped closer, and leaned down to brush his fingers against Alec's chin, forcing their eyes to meet.

"I will love you to the end of my days, you stupid nephilim."

Alec's breath caught in his throat. He starred at him with huge, wondrous eyes. And with his fingers still gently against his chin, Alec grasped his wrist. And yanked him hard onto the ground.

A faint expression of amusement gleamed in tawny cat eyes as Magnus's knees hit the dirt. "Your appreciation for my fashionable wardrobe is still painfully underdeveloped," Magnus mused, leaning forward to slip his hands over Alec's angular face. He pressed his lips warm and smooth against his, not in the desperate need to devour each other, a painful rush of lips and tongue fighting for dominance as their last kiss had been. Alec leaned forward to kiss him, his hands grasping onto Magnus's shoulders, the muscle firm under his fingertips.

Magnus parted the kiss briefly, an expression of amusement glowed, "You're not going to try and kill me again if I'm kissing you, are you?"

The color drained from Alec's face as he remembered why he had run off in the first place. Of course he was still a danger, he had no idea what was happening to him or why he would lose control of his own body and try to murder Magnus. "You should stay away from me," his eyes conflicted abhorrently with the statement. All he had wanted, for the longest time, was to be welcomed by Magnus again. And now, to find out he was still loved, and still wanted…he would have to send him away.

"You'll just end up coming back to me asking for free help," Magnus retorted, rolling his eyes as he dusted off his pants and grabbed Alec by the forearm, helping him up without brandishing a tight grasp on his already bruised wrist. "And ignoring my consultation hours, so we might as well deal with it now."

"Magnus…" Alec hesitated, his voice quiet as he looked silently up at the warlock, who's gleaming cat eyes seemed to shine so brightly in the dark, "Thank you."

* * *

"Shit." Being lost sucked. Being lost in some creepy, underground city that was run by demons and half demons was worse. Dyana couldn't remember if it had been hours or days that she had lost Alec.

Time just sort of evaporated, and ceased to exist down here.

She continued to struggle through the mist, the thick bog felt like it was pulling her down as she kept close to the buildings, kept her head down and tried not to draw attention to her. Each thing that passed her caused her heart to leap and choke her in the throat. She starred at her shoes, skipped past them and clutched her eyes shut.

It was a good hour of demons that faded through the mist, crossing her path without raising so much as a glance at her that Dyana remembered something. The tattoo was warm across her neck. Maybe she belonged here. Maybe that was why they left her alone, and continued on their way. Because down here there was nothing special about a half human, half whatever she was that probably couldn't be good.

Let's be real here – nothing good came from weird permanent tattoos. Las Vegas had taught her that four years ago the hard way.

"Alec." She clenched her teeth as she called his name and stumbled along the wall, her heart hammered inside of her chest. This was not good. This was so far from good, it was the absence of anything good. God she was screwed.

Dyana slipped through a cracked archway, the rock had begun to disintegrate, she tried to ignore the pools of blood on the floor, the human eyeballs that were pinned to the rock. A shiver ran up her spine as she skipped quickly through the archway, afraid the drops of crimson would stain her clothes. There was a quiet breeze through the dark alley, a few bells jingled that hung on the sign of a dark black door, its paint peeling and chipped.

MADAM RAMOSA EXTRODINAR: The best seer in town

She bet madam Ramosa had never met Magnus. Dyana scuttled quickly past the threshold. She kept walking. Even when the door creaked open – she kept walking. When the bells jingled loudly – she definitely kept walking. And then there it was.

A voice.

"I've been waiting for you," it was old and crippled, an aged voice that had lived many lives, seen many battles and endured thousands of heartaches. It was a voice of wisdom and a voice of cunning. It pulled at Dyana, luring her around to gap at the hooded figure that barely stood over four feet.

"I-what?" her tongue dropped clumsily out of her mouth. Run. That was the common sense thing to do – run as fast as she could away from this strange lady and her little jingle bells. The lady knocked her staff up against the door though, and Dyana found her feet pressing closer. She couldn't stop.

"Took your time, you did, the rudeness of young ones these days," she grumbled something else under her breath, and walked back into her house. Dyana was powerless to do anything but follow. Her fingers grasped the side of the door frame, her nails sunk into the wood and scratched across the surface as some magic drained her in.

She was too afraid to ask if it would let her out.


	19. Chapter 19: Everything

**Title**: The Mortal Instruments: City of Forsaken Hearts

**Chapter 19: Everything**

**Authors Note**: Again, my apologies for a late update. Life got in the way as it usually does, but here is the next chapter! I apologize for the delay. Also, to whoever nominated me for the Energize W.I.P. Award, HUGE THANK YOU, it was incredibly sweet and really made my day to get that email! Voting starts March 13th just google Energize WIP Award if you would like to vote! I will see if I can post more helpful directions once it starts. I'm a bit clueless as to how it works, since I've never been nominated before!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of its characters. All respectful material belongs to Cassandra Clare – including the universe created for this story.

* * *

"So three shadow hunters and a vampire walk into an underground demon city…" Simon begins, casually walking with a bit of a spirit in his step, eyes glowing strangely under the greenish glow of the city.

"What the hell are you on about, vampire?" Jace scowled, blonde hair flowing between his moody eyes as he wrapped his hand tighter around the seraph blade. Unlike Simon, his shoulders were tight, muscles constricted like a threatened cobra about to strike fast and venomous. Clary felt the same tightness choking her, like the air was poisonous to her and toxins were slowly invading her muscles, constricting, tightening and asphyxiating inside of her.

To say the least, it was not pleasant. Isabelle shared a grimace.

"Just sounded like the start of a bad joke," Simon explained, kicking up dirt with his converses, their dark fabric made his feet blend with the ground.

"Anyone else find it strange that a city of demons is so…quiet and…dead?" Clary asked silently, she felt a trickle of fear down her spine, nothing felt right down here. It was too dark. It was too…_dead_, worse than the city of bones and all that inhabited that city was the dead.

"No." Isabelle and Jace answered at the same time, both matching scowls on their faces.

"Where the hell is the sparkly warlock when you need him," Jace continued to grimace, voicing out his complaints quite vocally. The air was too stiff, it was damaging his precious lungs. The green mist was touching his blonde hair, what if it turned it green? He didn't like how the light made his skin look pale, even if he was still the hottest thing in this city.

They walked like that for a while, navigating the empty streets, becoming further lost in the city with its wrapped around roads that vanished into dark mist, buildings that craned over the top of them, made of red brick that crumbled against the fingers. Tattered windows and strange demonic symbols were carved onto doors, against walls, scribbled on the roads they walked on. All the while, Jace complained. Until finally…

"Jace. Shut. Up." Clary scowled, yanking her fingers through her carrot red hair aggressively from frustration. "We get it, you don't like the city."

"Like is a pretty weak word, more like am obligatorily devoted to hatred and _loathing-_"

Clary clamped her hand over his mouth, throwing a dark glance at him, "Fine. You are devoted to hatred. Just, please be quiet. Before Isabelle decides to ram her seraph blade through your mouth."

"I was considering it. Oh wait I mean. I was _obligatorily devoted_ to considering it," she mimicked in Jace's voice, a perfected tone that came from years of being it her sisterly duty to irritate both Jace and Alec.

"Don't steal my brilliant words because your too unoriginal to come up with your own," Jace began, his voice cracked out louder than necessary.

And just like that, the sky darkened further and streets poured open with activity – demonic activity. A clan of four vampire women walked out, in fashionable eighteen hundred clothing, hair in ringlets. Their eyes tinted red and fangs protruding as they gossiped about the unfortunate ending of Camille Belcourt. One sniffed in the air and turned on her heels, skirt whisking around her legs. Her tongue flickered out over her lips, "Nephilim," she oozed in a hateful, sickening tone. Clary's gut dropped to the floor.

They were not the only ones who took notice. A few faeries stopped short, as beautiful as they were deadly. 'crime' they whispered with wide eyes 'the doors are broken' delicate mouths curved into malicious sneers. 'living shall not enter the city of the dead' their eyes were murderous and mad, not the best combination.

"Jace…" Clary whispered, voice dry as she backed up against the door. Warlocks and witches stopped in their pace. One with horns curling out of a mass of brown curls screamed, a high pitched horrible, ugly noise as she began to whisper words in a different language. A warlock who's skin was reptile in fashion's eyes went strikingly green and yellow, his head bobbed side to side like a rattler, all around them gasps and shocked voices whispered 'the city has been forsaken'

For a moment everything was quiet. Nobody moved, as if in a quiet stand-off, unsure of what the other would do. A second passed, and Clary thought perhaps they could request kindly to leave the city and everything would be fine.

And then Jace and Isabelle both grabbed their seraph blades.

Madness erupted.

The vampire's left for Isabelle, and she cracked her whip quickly, snapping it around the first woman's ankle and bringing her face down into the dirt. The second leaped to tackle her against her back, blocked when Simon grappled with her, their bodies made a loud clamor in the city as they both fell to the ground. Her nails raked along his arms and Simon made a low throaty noise of threat. The fay dispersed, the warlock grabbed the witch by the arm and pulled her against the side of the building, seemingly to retreat, only for him to fling his hand out and for fire to erupt. At least fifty feet tall burned like a bright beacon in the night – alerting everyone to their presence.

Jace swore, demons began to materialize throughout the street, his clothes were already stained with the dark liquid that ran thickly out of their bodies. He pulled Clary behind him, sweat trickled down his face.

"Jace we have to get out of here!" Isabelle snarled, slamming her whip around the neck of a demon, it curled gold against black and she flicked her wrist, bringing the screaming creature to his knees. She plunged her blade through his skull, and he vanished with a pop from under her. There was blood drenched down her front, she moved in a jerking motion, red blood poured down her leg.

"What? This? This is hardly anything," Jace snarled, keeping his body behind a hoard of demons and Clary.

Clary's fingers gripped the blade tightly, for a moment the entire battle blurred, and then she saw only one thing clearly - protecting Jace, keeping Jace from being harmed. Her everything. She knew it was silly, Jace could protect himself, if anyone was the weak link in the group it was her - and maybe that caused her to push all the more. So she _wouldn't _be the weakest link. A demon sprang itself to catch him against his backside where he couldn't see.

"JACE!" Clary was barely aware of screaming his name. One flicker of panic was all the time she had for fear to leap and seize her throat and she threw herself in front of the demon. And then she was down, head slamming back against the earth, eyes fluttering. A ravanger demon snapping thickly at her jaw, it's multiple claws piercing her through the side as it's spiked tail attempted to pierce her pinned down legs. She tried to untangle her arm, clutching at the blade as the weight of it caught the air out of her chest, squeezing her for all she was worth – her vision went blurry as the tail caught her leg and injected it's poison in her.

There was the sound of something terrible screaming, and then the body was ripped off of her. Her breath choked in her throat as a hand leaned down and gripped her tightly around the waist, hauling her back up to her feet. She stumbled upward, balance thrown forward as she reached out to catch herself.

Jace's arm came around her waist, "What the hell were you thinking Clary!" he murmured, concern coated in his voice, his other hand clutched tightly to his blade. He leaned back towards Isabelle, "This way," he gripped Clary tightly, and they ran down a blind alley.

Clary gripped onto the fabric of his shirt, swaying back and forth as she urged her legs to keep up with him. Half of the time they barely touched the ground. Jace moved quickly, using his strength to hoist her next to him. Her skin was clammy, it felt cold against the burning warmth of his arm curling around her waist.

They skidded around the corner, Simon first with grace that still felt unusual for him. He threw a look back towards them, quickly waving them forward once seeing the road was clear. "Come on, this way," he beckoned when a hand reached forward, curled around the back of his sweatshirt, and hauled him off his feet.

Isabelle rushed forward, seraph blade and whip ready in both hands, only to see an ugly little old woman starring at her, shorter than Clary with one glassy eye rolling about in her head. Grey hair came in tumulus curls down her back with her front door open. "Idiot Nephilim," she regarded with a scoff in her voice, "Get in here before you do more damage."

Isabelle barely hesitated, she looked to Jace, and with a nod from him they both scrambled into the room, door slamming tight behind them with such force it shook the sign that she had hanging next to her door.

Inside was musty, there was the smell of faint herbs and a strong, over powering scent of jasmine and spice. If it wasn't like your nose slamming into a wall of perfume, it might have been pleasant. As it was, Jace choked and Isabelle made a face. There were jars of strange juices and potions and concoctions littering every wall and every shelf. Plants and vines hung from the ceiling, and in wafting vases.

Clary had gone pale white next to Jace, she didn't say a word as he lowered her onto the patched velvet red couch. Her eyes fluttered open, little white specs dotted her eyes, her skin was ashen white. "She got stung," he muttered, hanging his head, his hand tightly closed around hers, "I should have watched her better."

"A healing rune…" Isabelle muttered hopefully behind him. A squawk of laughter came from the short, elderly lady as she muttered another insult against the intelligence of the angels and walked forward with a small pouch attached to her waist.

"You're lucky I knew you were coming," she muttered, and pulled out a little jar of cream. She stuck her fingers into the jar, it smelled of clovers and apricots, and then smeared it generously against her leg. "The girl will be out for a while…morons." She muttered, walking back.

"Thanks," Simon cleared out his voice, speaking up as he walked forward. "My name is Simon."

"Simon!" Isabelle hissed, eyes darting back and forth from them.

He arched an eyebrow at her, "What?"

"Don't tell her your name! You don't know what she could do with it," Isabelle snarled, back tense.

For a moment the woman seemed to consider being insulted or not – in the end she cackled, shaking her head and calling them a bunch of idiots, a colorful comparison of heaven's warriors to the usefulness of a sucking babe still swaddled on its mother's hip. "I already know your name, Isabelle Lightwood. Jace of too many names to bother with, and Clarissa Fray. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have opened my doors," her lips slid into a nasty smile.

"Why did you, open your doors I mean?" Simon asked patiently, now that he knew Clary was safe from he had relaxed considerably, going so far as to slide into one of her plush chairs, ignoring the dirty looks Isabelle shot him.

The woman's one good eye darkened, while her glass one remained the same. "Because we need you," the words were bitter on her tongue. And it was quite obvious to all of them. She did not want to need them. Not one bit.

"What the world has come too, for lilith's sake, asking help from the nephilim," She muttered crossly, vanishing into the dark shadows of her small home. A door shut smartly, the sound of rustling occurred.

And for the longest time, nobody moved. And nobody spoke.

* * *

"So what's in there?" Alec gestured broadly, stony blue eyes fixated on the building behind Magnus's back, the vines were curling in defense against the thick iron gates, coming to life on their own. It was unnerving. Plants shouldn't move like that. He adjusted his seraph blade against his hip, flexing his fingers and hoping it stayed far away from his grasp. The steel was still stained with Magnus's blood.

Magnus glanced once towards the gothic towered building, it's sloping roof and destitute aurora. He had never known a house to hold a stronger negative energy. It seemed mad, as if the building itself could feel violence and destruction, and thirst for it as much as it's master did. "Someone I hope you never meet," he brushed the subject off, turning around and grabbing Alec's hand, pulling him quickly off his feet and away from the iron gates.

"But _who's _inside?" Alec demanded, his blood was pulsating loudly in his ears, roaring that this was truth he had to know. Who had he almost walked into? Who was calling him?

"_No one _who you need to deal with," Magnus complained loudly, his glittering eyeliner thick eyes starred out at Alec, "Are you really going to care more about that house and what's inside it than me?" The arrogance was back in his tone, slighted that a house could be more important than the great Magnus Bane, aka – the best lover Alec Lightwood would ever have.

Alec scowled, a familiar facial expression that Magnus found he missed very much. It suited him, as much as the glitter and leather suited himself.

"You would be curious too if you were me," he challenged back, but didn't fight Magnus as he led him away. Maybe this one time Magnus was right. Nothing good felt as if it came from that house, perhaps he should let it go.

"If I were you, then at least you would dress better," Magnus interrupted, sending a sly expression as he picked at the ripped apart tatters of the leather jacket he had grabbed on his way out, "Although even _this _is preferable to those ratty grey sweatshirts."

"Two minutes back together and you already can't help yourself, picking on my defenseless wardrobe," he bickered back, and realized he missed it. He missed it more than he thought he would.

By the angel, he missed fighting over his clothes with Magnus Bane. It really was love.

"What you wear is offensive to every poor lamb out there sacrificing its wool for clothes, just think-," he broke off, suddenly straining to hear something.

Alec snorted beside him, "Come off it Magnus."

"Shh."

"Really?"

"SHHH!" he sent a scalding expression over his shoulder that prompted Alec to close his lips, though his eyes said plenty enough on how he felt about being 'shhh' as if he was barely three.

Magnus remained quiet for a moment and then sighed, "Your idiot friends can't listen to one simple direction. Stay inside."

"Wait? Jace is here? Why didn't I feel him?" Alec frowned deeply, disturbed that he hadn't felt any danger coming from Jace. Even when Jace had been poisoned and marked by Lilithe, he had always felt something was off with his parabati.

Magnus shook his head, "I don't know but…I think it is time we find out."

Alec scurried an eyebrow, keeping pace with Magnus as they started to quickly down the road. He cleared his throat and starred at the warlock, "Find out about what?" He finally asked.

"Everything."

"Oh. Thanks for really going into the detail on that. I could have figured out 'everything' enough for myself."

"I don't remember you being so sassy," Magnus retorted, but there was a smile on his lips, "It's not safe to talk here. We're visiting an old friend."

"Older than you?" Alec asked, curious as he kept pace with Magnus easily through the street.

"Much older," he resounded back, his eyes far off.

* * *

Hey there! Thanks so much for reading and hope you enjoy! Don't forget to review, and again THANK YOU to whoever was kind enough to nominate me!


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